


A New Horizon

by AbyssWalk3r



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Twins, Jeralt is so done with everything, Multi, Sothis is a lil' shit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:00:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 65,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26163775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AbyssWalk3r/pseuds/AbyssWalk3r
Summary: When Jeralt Eisner fled Garreg Mach, he did so not with one baby, but two. Twins Byleth and Beleth have known only each other, their father, and the mysterious green-haired girl named Sothis their whole lives, living day by day with the young woman that only they can see and hear. Claude just wanted to find out more about the land his mother hailed from, and he certainly didn't expect everything to change because of a chance meeting in the woods while running for his life.
Relationships: Flayn & My Unit | Byleth, My Unit | Byleth & Sothis, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added
Comments: 14
Kudos: 70





	1. The Twins

Claude had run from death before, enough times to know that he couldn’t rely on anyone but himself to escape it. And now he was running through the forest as fast as his legs could carry him, dashing by the red-gold light of the rising sun in a desperate attempt to evade the small army of bandits that had descended on his camp. 

Branches whipped across his face or snagged on his uniform, which made him consider dumping the ridiculous yellow cape that Seteth insisted he wear as the Head of the Golden Deer. 

Something heavy crashed through the undergrowth behind him, and he resisted the urge to groan. 

“Claude, wait up!” the Boar Prince of Faerghus yelled, true to Felix’s nickname as he smashed through the forest with enough noise to wake the dead back in Almyra. 

Of course those two had seen him running and had chased him, making every single gods-damned bandit stampede after them. Claude might have felt bad about leaving them behind to potentially die, but he’d seen both royals’ ridiculous strength, firsthand. 

They probably would have been fine, even without weapons, but Claude needed to live if he wanted to fulfil his dreams. If it meant that potential competition died, so be it. 

Claude looked ahead and his heart skipped at the sight of two figures standing in the clearing ahead of him, illuminated by golden sunbeams like the heroes in some epic story. 

_What the hell? How did the bandits get ahead of us?_

Then the momentary fear turned into relief as he drew closer and saw that the duo was dressed in black plate armor that was far nicer than anything a bandit could have. 

“Hello, there!” Claude pushed through his aching muscles and throbbing lungs to plant a friendly smile on his lips as he approached the two warriors. 

It was a young woman and a young man of similar age-twins, perhaps? - who bore remarkable resemblance to one another despite the curious differences Claude could see on them now that he was mere feet away. 

The woman was holding a well-balanced and clearly well-maintained longsword of shining steel almost as dark as the strange metal sabatons covering the entirety of her long legs. Her dark hair fell around her shoulders, her pale doll-like face set into an absolutely blank expression as eyes darker than the night sky bore into Claude. 

The man Claude assumed was the woman’s brother was wearing thick Kingdom-style black plate armor around his torso and legs, while unusually thick gauntlets and armor of interlocking metal plates extended from his hands to his bulging shoulders. His hair was shorter than his sister’s, and a black cloth had been tightly wrapped around his eyes. 

Was he blind? 

Claude glanced at the plethora of weapons the man was carrying: two swords like the one his sister carried were sheathed on either side of his waist, while a long spear of dark wood was strapped to his back, its wide serrated head more akin to a small sword blade. 

Wait, were both sides of that spear bladed?! 

“Who are you?” the woman asked, her voice as bland and emotionless as her face. 

There was no hostility, no curiosity or anything in her dark eyes, not even as she held her sword in a practiced, professional stance. Mercenaries, then, and hopefully ones who had friends nearby. 

“I am Claude von Riegan,” Claude did a sweeping bow of the sort that would ordinarily appease stuffy nobles, but neither twin seemed fazed. “A student from Garreg Mach’s Officer’s Academy.” 

“Claude!” Dimitri and Edelgard came crashing from the forest, both heirs disheveled and gasping for breath. “Do you know these two?” 

“No, we don’t know him, or you,” the unnamed man spoke in a voice as empty as his sister’s, and Claude could have sworn that the eyes under his black blindfold flickered green for a split second. 

“We are students of the Officer’s Academy from Garreg Mach,” Edelgard spoke up, scowling as she tried to dislodge the flurry of burs that had stuck to her uniform, cape, and hair. “We were attacked by bandits while on an exercise, and our Professor fled.” 

Claude couldn’t blame Professor Reeves: the army of bandits suddenly appearing would have been enough to make anyone flee. Too bad the man had been cut down before he could get far, but at least Claude hadn’t shared that fate. 

“They’re after our lives, not to mention our gold,” Claude said, hoping that these two mercenaries would be swayed by the promise of payment. “We could use all the help we could get.” 

“If you can provide compensation, then we will help you,” the brother looked past Edelgard, his hands going to his swords and drawing them with a loud metallic ring. “Belle, take them to Remire. Father can handle the details when you arrive.” 

“Our enemies approach,” the sister nodded. “How many?” 

“I count maybe a dozen or more,” the brother reported. “Bandits, as Claude said: poorly armed and unorganized. I will deal with them.” 

Wait, what?! How?! 

Claude swallowed his shock and looked over the mercenary again, the ease with which he handled his blades while his sightless gaze watched their oncoming foes. He could hear branches snapping as heavy bodies smashed through the undergrowth, gruff voices baying like dogs. 

“I see ‘em!” 

“Gut them! Don’t let a single one of those noble brats live!” 

Dimitri stepped forward, a frown on his lips. “Sir, I will not just run away while a blind man-” 

A flash of dark steel so fast even Claude’s keen eyes could barely catch it silenced the prince, who stared with wide eyes as several strands of his unkempt blonde hair trailed to the earth. 

“I am blind, not helpless,” the mercenary said. “Belle: take them.” 

“Yes. Come, all of you,” his sister sheathed her own sword and then shoved Claude and Dimitri in the direction that they’d been running in before, her hands strong and uncompromising. “Byleth will be fine.” 

Belle and Byleth, huh? These Fodlanese always had such curious names. 

Belle shoved Claude again, forcing him and Dimitri to break out running to avoid being tossed onto the ground. Edelgard followed in silence, glancing over her shoulder at Byleth as he stood like a statue with a sword in either hand, waiting for his opponents to come. 

“So, uh, how far is Remire?” Claude asked as he dashed in the direction that Belle had pushed him in. 

The mercenary suddenly stomped past with shocking speed, easily overtaking both boys in a flurry of loud clanking while her dark hair whipped wildly behind her. 

“Follow me, and don’t fall behind,” her voice was somehow perfectly placed so that it came from between the unusually loud clanging of her armor. 

Claude was impressed, to say the least. 

And so they ran, following Belle through the forest until she suddenly stopped dead in front of them. 

“Hey, why are we-” Claude’s words died in his throat at the yawning ravine that gouged deep into the earth before them. “Oh, holy shit.” 

“Claude,” Dimitri growled as he came to a halt beside the duo. “We are House Leaders: we must-” 

“Be examples to our classmates, yeah,” Claude waved his hand dismissively. “Belle, how are we going to cross this?” 

“I throw you,” came her bland answer. 

“W-what?!” the students blurted as one. 

“Uh, are you trying to kill us?!” Claude spluttered. “There’s no way you can throw all three of us across that huge ravine!” 

Belle just shifted her blank eyes to Claude, nodding as if she’d simply suggested having the tea and cookies that Fodlan’s nobles seemed so fond of. “Of course I can.” 

She grabbed both him and Dimitri by the fronts of their uniforms and shoved them to the edge of the ravine, nearly tossing the boys into the yawning gullet of the earth. 

“Ma’am, please reconsider!” Dimitri yelped, looking as if he were about to put his inhuman strength to good use as he tensed his muscles. 

“This should be interesting,” Edelgard mused with a smirk, a spark of annoyance flickering through Claude. 

Dimitri, please put your inhuman strength to good use! 

Was this irony? Claude had been so willing to let the other two die and now he was probably going to fall to his doom unless Edelgard intervened. 

Belle lifted her arms and chanted, conjuring pale white arcane sigils before her fingertips. Magical energy rippled around Claude, and all the weight of his body suddenly lessened as if he were walking on air. 

“Wait, what kind of magic is this?” Claude looked down, startled to find a faint rippling aura of energy encasing his body and shimmering beneath his feet like a platform. 

“Gravity magic,” came Belle’s response. “Don’t move too much or you’ll break it.” 

Gravity magic? Claude had never heard of that before. 

Belle lightly pushed his back, and he found himself floating through the air with the chasm right below his feet. Already, his mind raced with different ways he could use this type of magic to eavesdrop and spy, to get himself into places where nobody could see him. 

Too bad he wasn’t skilled with magic, or else he might’ve tried to ask Belle to teach him. And she probably would have refused. 

“You’re heavier than you look,” Belle muttered behind them. 

“Hey!” Claude protested, glancing down at his body. 

He wasn’t as large as Dimitri, but he wasn’t a scrawny weakling, either. Countless hours of drawing back the thick cords that served as bowstrings had made his arms and shoulders stronger than most, and he’d done enough cardio to keep himself in decent shape. 

“Not you: the other one,” came the mercenary’s droll response. 

“Sorry?” Dimitri asked, unsure if he should be offended or apologetic. 

Claude’s feet hit the soft ground and he nearly jumped out of his skin: he’d been so caught up in his thoughts that he hadn’t realized they were so close to the other side. Dimitri landed alongside him, and Belle’s magic faded as the two boys hurriedly shuffled away from the edge of the chasm. 

“Okay, that was pretty impressive,” Claude murmured, wondering just what other juicy secrets this woman and her brother were hiding. “I’ve never seen gravity magic before.” 

“It’s pretty rare magic,” Dimitri said from alongside him. “Or, so Annette says. I’m not too well versed in the magical arts.” 

Claude pat the broad shoulder closest to him, Dimitri’s armor cold against his fingertips. “Me neither, my friend.” 

“Friend?” Dimitri scowled at him, his disheveled and partly chopped hair swaying around his eyes as the blue orbs flashed with dangerous light. “You ran and left us to die.” 

“Hey, I made a strategic retreat, which would have worked if you and the princess over there hadn’t chased me and brought every single bandit with you,” Claude shrugged, but the menace he could feel emanating from Dimitri had every single survival instinct on full blast. 

He’d heard rumors of how Dimitri had literally ripped people apart during some rebellion a few years ago, back in the cold northern reaches of Faerghus. The prince valued loyalty and honor above all else, which could be a useful tool to exploit, but the dark rage that Claude sometimes saw within his blue eyes was a reminder that Dimitri was far more dangerous than he’d first thought. 

“They’ve followed us!” Edelgard’s shout made both boys stop bickering and look back at the two women on the other side of the chasm. 

Four bandits were crashing through the undergrowth towards the group, their unshaven faces gleaming with sweat as mouths missing several yellowed teeth split into wicked grins. 

“There they are!” 

“Kill the boys, first! The girls are quite good looking!” 

“Let’s have some fun with ‘em first, then kill ‘em!” 

Edelgard stiffened and reached for the dagger that rested on her waist, and even Claude winced at the bandit’s insinuation. 

He’d seen how horribly women had suffered during tribal raids back in Almyra, becoming trophies or slaves to the men who’d been fast enough to grab them. Sometimes, but only rarely, they were treated well, but others... Claude pushed that image from his mind as the four bandits closed in on Belle and Edelgard. 

“We have to get back across,” Dimitri insisted, scanning the ravine for any way to traverse it. 

“No, you stay there,” Belle commanded, her dull voice firm and oddly compelling. “Girl, you’re with me.” 

“What? How?” Edelgard’s confused questions turned into a stammered cry as Belle scooped the smaller girl into her arms and then ran towards the nearest tree. “W-what are you doing?! Release me at once!” 

Claude sorely wished he had his bow as the bandits turned course to give chase, but he had the feeling that Belle was about to perform something incredible. 

Belle jumped at the thickest part of the trunk, snapping both of her legs forward with blinding speed while chanting an incantation. She slammed into the tree with a harsh crack, making Edelgard yelp and sending shards of wood flying as she _ran up the tree trunk like it was nothing_. 

“What the hell?!” a bandit yelped, giving a voice to everyone’s thoughts. 

Claude was utterly at a loss for words at the mercenary’s absurd display of athleticism, enshrouded in a faint veil of gravity magic that probably kept her from falling right onto her back. But that alone couldn’t possibly keep her tethered to the tree, and he took an even closer look at the woman’s unusual legs. 

Belle leaped up onto a thick branch spanning the ravine and dashed across it, hurling herself and Edelgard over the void. Claude saw four strange protrusions now jutting from her metal-covered feet, and the ground shook as Belle slammed into the forest floor next to the two boys. 

She set Edelgard down, not seeming to care as the girl straightened her ruffled clothes with embarrassment written all across her red face. 

“What is that woman?!” a bandit demanded as the grimy ruffians looked around for a path of their own. 

“Bah, let’s go back,” another suggested. “Tell Kostas that the brats hid behind an army of mercenaries.” 

“What army of mercenaries?” a third asked in confusion. “I don’t see no army.” 

The fourth bandit shoved the third into the ravine, the poor bastard screaming as he was swallowed up by the abyss before a faint, sickening impact silenced him. Claude scowled at the brutality, but he could see why the fourth bandit had done it: no point in having an idiot refute your lies in his confusion to get everything right. 

“Come,” Belle said, metal clanking as she turned and stomped away into the forest. 

“Hey, hold up!” Claude ran after her, hearing Dimitri and Edelgard do the same after a few moments of hesitation. 

Belle led them down a well-worn path of dirt and crushed foliage through the forest, occasionally glancing back to make sure that the trio was following. After several minutes of dashing through the flame-hued forest, the trees and shrubbery peeled away. 

Tall earthen walls surrounded a cluster of simple wooden buildings with thatch roofs while the limbs of a large windmill rotated lazily above the settlement. A sturdy wooden gate lay wide open before the group, and Belle led them right up to it. 

“Back already, kids?” a gruff, older man with scruffy orange hair strolled out to greet them, his eyes narrowing when he saw the students. “Who are they? And where’s Byleth?” 

He was clearly a seasoned warrior: dressed in heavy plate and chainmail covered by an orange surcoat, with a small triangular knight’s shield strapped to the back of his shoulder. His eyes spoke of a veteran’s patience, and his rough face was marked with several scars. 

“Some students from some Officer’s Academy who we encountered in the forest,” Belle answered, pointing at Claude. “We came to an arrangement that Byleth and I would deliver them to safety from the bandits pursuing them if they would pay us afterwards.” 

The knight balked as if he’d seen a ghost, all color draining from his rough features as he stared at the students’ uniforms. “Officer’s Academy? Damn it all...” 

Oh? The secrets just got better and better! 

“We apologize, but could you work out the details on payment with them, Father?” Belle asked. “I’m going to return to Byleth and ensure that none of the bandits followed us here.” 

“Father?” Edelgard repeated aloud, her confusion evident in her voice as she looked between father and daughter. 

“They, uh, take more after their mother,” the knight grumbled, his eyes hard. “And as for payment...just forget it. Return to the monastery and leave us alone.” 

“Wait! Who are you?” Dimitri stepped forward. 

“Not important,” the knight growled, reaching out and grabbing Belle’s shoulder. “Get your brother back here on the double. We’re leaving for the Kingdom as soon as everyone else is packed up and ready.” 

This guy had a history with Garreg Mach, eh? The monastery hadn’t been mentioned, yet he knew exactly where they were from. Claude was tempted to stick around and see what he could glean, but the deadly look in the knight’s eyes as he surveyed the students made his better judgement return in full force. 

“Captain: we’re almost ready!” a mercenary in plate armor and chainmail with a fur collar emerged from the village, the insignia of a broken sword displayed on his kite shield. 

“Oh, I’ve heard of you!” recognition blazed through Claude as he snapped his fingers in triumph. “You’re Jeralt, the Blade Breaker! The mercenary that Leonie never shuts up about.” 

“Leonie?” Jeralt scowled. “From Sauin village? To think she got to the Monastery...” 

Footsteps came from behind, making everyone turn to see a bloody Byleth trudging back towards them, the object he was holding in his hand making even Claude curse under his breath. 

“Kid, what the hell?’ Jeralt groaned. “Why did you bring that back here?” 

Byleth lifted the severed head of a bandit by its greasy knotted hair, ignoring how its ragged neck continued leaking blood on the ground beside him. “Do either of you three recognize this man? He was the leader.” 

Claude glanced at the dull grey eyes of the bandit leader, frowning at the shocked expression frozen upon the face while a mouth missing several tombstone-grey teeth spread open in a silent scream. 

“No, I don’t know him,” Claude and Edelgard said at the same time, with Dimitri silently shaking his head as he stared at the severed head. 

Byleth shrugged and dropped the head, letting it bounce against the dirt. It rolled towards Edelgard, whose face hardened with anger and something eerily similar to disappointment before she lifted a slender leg and kicked the head as hard as she could muster. The disgusting sound the head made as it careened into the forest and slammed into a tree made a shudder go up Claude’s spine as he reminded himself to keep a closer eye on the Imperial princess. 

“Was that really necessary?” Jeralt asked. 

Edelgard paused, surprise and concern warring on her features before she schooled herself. “My apologies.” 

“Alright, you two miscreants!” an older man trudged out of the village, dressed in a dirty, well-worn tunic and breeches that spoke of his occupation as a laborer. “Let’s see what kinda damage you’ve done to my work now!” 

His face was wizened yet oddly strong, with a sharp nose and high cheekbones that spoke of someone who would usually hold a softer, more political role, if the scarring and wrinkles hadn’t mangled them. Grey eyes akin to storm clouds gleamed with intelligence and annoyance, while wispy grey hair parted atop his head in a manner not unlike some of the monastery’s monks. 

The man’s arms, however, were rippling with muscles while hands callused from untold years of hard labor were clenched into rough fists. He looked like a blacksmith that had grown up angry and would probably take a hammer to anyone who challenged the quality of his work. 

“Go on, kids,” Jeralt sighed, motioning for his twins to go with the angry old man. “I’ll deal with these three.” 

A cold sweat formed on Claude’s neck. 

“Come on, come on!” the blacksmith grunted with an irate and impatient wave of his powerful hands. “Let’s take this where I can use my tools.” 

The twins shuffled by in silence, all three of the curious strangers disappearing from sight behind the village walls. 

Jeralt turned to the students, his face hardening as he folded his arms. “Your names and titles. Now.” 

“I am Claude von Riegan, grandson of Duke Riegan of the Leicester Alliance,” Claude repeated his fancy bow. 

Jeralt grunted and glared at Dimitri, who stepped forward and did a more relaxed bow. 

“I am Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, sir,” he introduced himself. “Crown Prince of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus.” 

Jeralt’s faltering glare shifted suspiciously to Edelgard, an eyebrow raised as if he already knew and feared her answer. 

“Edelgard von Hresvelg, Princess of the Adrestian Empire,” she reported with a cool, calculating voice, offering a slight curtsy. 

Jeralt deflated. “Seriously, kids? The future leaders of Fodlan’s major nations? Why couldn’t you have saved three gutter rats?” 

“Uh, Sir Jeralt?” Dimitri asked in a hesitant voice. 

A loud whirring noise emanated from the village, probably waking up everyone inside as it was followed by metallic screeching and crashing. 

“WHAT THE HELLS HAVE YOU BEEN DOING?!” the blacksmith’s voice bellowed with enough force to startle birds from all over the forest. “THERE’S GUTS ALL OVER THE PLATES!” 

Jeralt pinched his nose and inhaled deeply, his other hand going to a flask on his waist. 

Claude and Dimitri shared a concerned glance while Edelgard actually took a step away from the village. 

“WERE YOU CLIMBING TREES, GIRL?! YOU GOT WOOD SHAVINGS IN THE SPRINGS AGAIN!” 

“Is, uh, this normal?” Claude asked. 

Jeralt’s only answer was to take a deep swig of his canteen, a dead and empty light in his eyes. 

“I AM GOING TO RIP THOSE ARMS OFF AND BEAT YOU WITH ‘EM, BOY! MIGHT GIVE YOU SOME SENSE! HOW MANY TIMES TO I HAVE TO SAY DON’T SEPARATE THEM WHILE THEY’RE SWINGING!” 

Separate? What the hells was this psycho screaming about? 

More crashing, whirring, and shrieking of metal followed each eardrum-shattering bellow, and the frequency with which Jeralt gulped down more of what was in his flask greatly increased. 

After enough screaming to make Claude’s ears ring and wish he could have a drink as well, the village fell silent. 

“Is it over?” Dimitri asked, his soft voice almost too loud in the deafening silence that followed. 

“There they are!” another voice boomed, this one far friendlier and familiar. 

“Oh, Goddess, not him,” Jeralt groaned, taking yet another swig of his canteen before scowling and tipping it over. “Shit, it’s empty already?” 

Alois and a battalion of white-armored Knights of Seiros stormed towards the village in a storm of clanking and rattling, several of them sporting new dents and green stains on their armor. 

“Why, Captain Jeralt, is that you?!” Alois boomed as he approached the group while he grinned like a boy meeting his hero. “Goodness, it’s been ages!” 

“Alois,” Jeralt grumbled. 

They knew each other? Word around the Monastery was that Alois had been a squire to the previous Captain of the Knights of Seiros, but that captain had disappeared about twenty years ago after a great fire. 

“I never imagined I’d run into you like this, Captain!” Alois continued jabbering on, his eyes beaming as brightly as his smile. “Everyone had thought you were dead for so long, and then we began hearing rumors of a Blade Breaker named Jeralt! We tried tracking you down, but my goodness, you were a hard man to find!” 

Jeralt grunted. “I’m not a captain anymore, Alois. I’m a mercenary, and one that has a contract that needs to be fulfilled in the Alliance. This is where we part ways.” 

Wait, hadn’t he said the job was in the Kingdom, earlier? Why was he so desperate to get away from the Church and its people if he’d been the former Captain? 

Alois’s bubbly face fell. “Oh...in that case, I bid you farewell, Captain.” Then his expression did a complete reversal. “Wait! It can’t end like this! Come back to the monastery with us, Captain! Lady Rhea will be thrilled to see you again, and we all owe you for saving the heads of our three Houses!” 

Jeralt muttered a dark oath under his breath. “I didn’t save them: my kids did. If you want to pay them, do it and take your students.” 

“Kids?” Alois’s eyes grew comically large as he looked around. “Where are they?” 

As if on cue, Belle and Byleth emerged from the village in silence, their faces blank and their respective legs and arms freshly gleaming and oiled. 

“Who are they, Father?” Belle asked, her hand drifting to her sword. 

“Oh, you’re the captain’s children?” Alois sent them both a beaming smile, not faltering when neither twin reacted. “I can’t say you look like him, but...” 

“They take more after their mother!” Jeralt snapped. 

“You know them, Father,” Byleth pointed out, at which the Blade Breaker sighed. 

“I know Alois, yes, but not the rest,” he looked at the two blank faces. “You alright, Byleth? I know you can hold your own, but I still worry.” 

“Wait, is he blind?!” Alois blurted. “Sir Byleth, if there’s any help we can give you, please do not hesitate to call on me!” 

Claude felt a smile curve his lips at the loud, boisterous knight’s declaration, accompanied by a flamboyant thumbs up which Byleth couldn’t even see to begin with. 

“Thanks,” came the dull reply. 

“I insist that you all come back with us!” Alois declared, spreading his arms in what one could call a welcoming gesture if the one doing it hadn’t been covered in white plate with a heavy axe on his back. 

“Please, you must allow us to repay you,” Dimitri insisted. 

Jeralt looked like he wanted to refuse, especially as more and more mercenaries began trickling out of the village, sizing up the Knights of Seiros with grim, determined expressions. 

The Knights, in turn, were bunching together into a tighter formation, readying swords, lances, and axes for a potential fight as tension electrified the air. 

“You aren’t thinking on running off again, are you?” Alois asked with a wounded look on his face, slowly lowering his arms. 

“Even I wouldn’t dare run from the Knights of Seiros,” Jeralt spat, folding his arms as he sighed. “We’ll go with you, but only if you can provide lodging for my company.” 

Alois brightened immediately. “I’m certain we can find space for your people in town with the garrison! Lady Rhea will be greatly pleased to see you again!” 

“Captain?” one of the mercenaries looked at Jeralt with a frown. “Are you sure? We can take ‘em and get the hell out of here!” 

“The Church will only send another army after us if we do,” Jeralt shook his head, shoving his flask back onto his belt. “Lower your weapons, all of you! There will be no trouble with the Church unless they attack us first!” 

The mercs sheathed their weapons, albeit hesitantly, and Claude made his way over to the twins as they were speaking to their father. 

“Listen: I want you two to stick together no matter what, got it?” Jeralt was saying, his face grim. “No matter what the Church tries to make you do, don’t let your guards down.” 

“I don’t know what this Church is, but we’ll be on guard,” Belle’s statement made Claude nearly stumble over his feet. 

How did they not know about the Church of Seiros?! Was Jeralt really trying that hard to isolate them?! 

Curiosity was almost driving Claude mad at this point: what was Jeralt’s history with the Church; why were his kids so unique; and why did Claude have a feeling that everything was going to change from this point on? 

“Let’s go,” Alois called, waving them all on. 

“Don’t trust anything that the Church tells you,” the Blade Breaker growled at the twins. 

“Yes, Father,” Byleth nodded. 

Jeralt clapped both of them on a shoulder before heading towards the mercenary company and barking orders. 

“Bah, I should have known the Church would have shoved their noses into my life again, despite everything I’ve done to avoid them,” the blacksmith with the voice of a god growled. “I’d just leave, but who’d take care of those two morons if I did, eh?” 

The twins were left alone, save for Claude as he approached. 

“Looks like you’ll be coming with us after all!” he said cheerily, swearing that Byleth was staring right at him through that black blindfold. “I look forward to becoming better acquainted with both of you!” 

Belle just stared blankly at him, neither twin betraying even a hint of emotion. It would have been easier to read to damn rock! 

“Trying to bother them, Claude?” Edelgard asked in a testy voice as she strode over to them with Dimitri on her heels like a faithful hound. 

“Hey, I’m just trying to be friendly with the people who’d rescued us!” Claude lifted his hands in surrender, internally sighing at the interruption. 

Their Highnesses were probably still a little sore from being, well, bait for the bandits. Claude could see their agitation written plain across their royal faces. 

“We are lucky that we found them,” Dimitri nodded. “Even if we did so while running after you, Claude.” 

“And bringing every single one of the bandits after us instead of scattering to split them up,” Claude reminded them. 

“We aren’t armed, Claude,” Edelgard pointed out with a scowl. “We would have simply been run down and surrounded.” 

“And we wouldn’t have been in any shape to fend them off,” Dimitri added. “Against superior numbers, even our Crest-infused strength wouldn’t have helped for long.” 

Claude tried not to roll his eyes as he recalled how he’d once seen Dimitri literally pick up a wagon that had fallen on its side in order to get it back on its wheels. He could probably have broken the bandits like twigs. 

“We’re all just lucky to be alive,” Claude shrugged. “Thanks to these two.” 

“They are strange, indeed,” Belle commented to no one in particular, earning a raised eyebrow from Edelgard. 

“What do you think, Sothie?” Byleth’s voice was almost too soft to hear, and Claude stole a glance to see if he hadn’t been the only one to hear this strange question. 

Sothie? Who was Sothie? 

Neither Dimitri nor Edelgard had reacted to the odd question, so perhaps they hadn’t heard it. 

Interesting! 

“Let’s go!” Alois called back. “Garreg Mach Monastery awaits!” 

Claude nodded to himself as a cool breeze washed over the new day, rustling him and whispering a promise of an exciting future. 

Maybe it would be worth coming to Fodlan, after all? 


	2. Garreg Mach Monastery

Well, this was proving to be an exercise in futility, Claude sighed inwardly as the two impassive walls named Belle and  Byleth yet again rebuffed his every effort to be friendly with them. 

Every question he asked was either met with a simple one- or two-word answer or silence, and his easy smiles were parried with blank stares. His mother had taught him to read people’s expressions and body language to see through whatever mask they tried to erect and to get the truth behind them, yet, somehow, he couldn’t get a read on either of these twins. 

It wasn’t that they were good at hiding their emotions: it was almost like they didn’t have anything to hide. 

“Claude, when will you stop bothering our companions?” Dimitri asked from behind them. “Even I am growing tired of your constant questioning.” 

“Hey, can you blame me for wanting to know more about these two?” Claude gave His Highness an impish smile that he knew made the prince raise his guard. “I was hoping to initiate a long and lasting friendship between us.” 

“Doesn’t seem like they’re interested,” Edelgard mused. 

Claude gave her a disappointed shake of his head, clicking his tongue as he did so. “Well, they weren’t exactly open to you, either, princess.” 

She glared at him before turning her head away.

“There’s that  Adrestian pride!” Claude chuckled, not missing how her slender-yet absurdly strong – gloved hands clenched into fists. 

“Sir  Byleth ?” Dimitri hesitantly spoke up, the mercenary turning his head so his ear was aimed at the prince. “I hope I am not prying, but how did you learn to fight so well despite not being able to see?” 

“Necessity,” came the blunt answer. 

“Have you been blind since birth?” Dimitri pressed on, perhaps emboldened by finally getting Byleth to answer him rather than Claude. 

“No. We had an incident a few years ago,”  Byleth shook his head, reaching up to adjust the black cloth covering his eyes. 

And then he cocked his head to the side as if listening to someone speak. Belle glanced at him as well, but said nothing before nodding in silent agreement. 

Claude paid close attention to this: he’d heard that sometimes siblings, or extremely close companions, had developed a way of communicating without verbal cues, having entire conversations in complete silence. If he could crack that code, he could chat without anyone eavesdropping or eavesdrop on conversations that nobody wanted him to know about. 

“So, what’s up with your armor?” Claude asked yet again, hoping that persistence would truly be key. “I’ve never seen anything like what you have on your arms and legs.” 

The strange plates on  Byleth’s arms seemed to bend and ripple every time he moved them, and Claude had never seen anyone need armor that thick just for their arms. His shoulders were bulging and yet he didn’t seem bothered by it in the slightest.

And Belle’s unusual leg armor was driving Claude insane as he tried to figure out how she moved  the interlocking plates. That, and the fact that they were clanking incessantly against the ground was enough to give him a splitting headache. 

Neither of them answered.

“What about that, uh, extremely loud blacksmith man?” Claude glanced back to see said extremely loud blacksmith man hanging at the rear of the group with the rest of  Jeralt’s mercenaries. 

“He keeps us in fighting condition,” Belle said in place of her brother. “Is that the monastery?”

An excellent deflection, Claude had to admit as he looked ahead to see the towering walls, towers, and cathedrals of  Garreg Mach Monastery lording over the  Oghma Mountains. A fortified town lay below the monastery, also bearing the name  Garreg Mach, and probably would have been able to repel an attacking army with ease if there hadn’t been gaps in the walls wide enough to march said armies through. 

No gates, either, not until you reached the monastery, itself. These Church of  Seiros types really thought they were invincible, didn’t they? Or were they really that certain of the control they held over Fodlan? 

From what Claude had seen, especially in the Kingdom, the people were devout followers of the Church, not even questioning a single one of its doctrines, and the nobles used that to their advantage whenever they could. 

The Archbishop’s power was absolute, and her word was almost as sacred as this Goddess that the people worshipped, yet nobody seemed to know anything about her. Her name was Rhea and she had been chosen by the Goddess was all that people agreed on, but nobody knew where she was from, how old she was, or how she had been chosen. 

The Church was full to bursting with secrets, and each one just made Claude’s urge to uncover them itch under his skin even worse than the Crest of Riegan that proved his lineage. 

And that was another thing: Crests. 

What exactly were they? The Church said they were blessings bestowed on the bloodline of the Ten Elites, heroes blessed by the Goddess in some war between gods and demons a long time ago. 

Noble families in the Kingdom and Alliance were obsessed with the damn things, to be sure, and Claude had heard many unsavory stories surrounding houses actually disinheriting their future scions just because they didn’t bear a Crest. It seemed like a waste, really, especially since noble houses seemed to treat their Crest-bearing heirs like pride mares to be bred until another Crest popped up. 

“Almost impressive,” Belle commented, seemingly to herself or maybe to her brother. “If it weren’t for the open gates leading right into town, the place would be nigh impregnable.” 

Claude snorted. “Right? Multiple layers of walls built right into the mountainside to present only one path forward and yet they leave the front door wide open.” 

“Nobody would dare be foolish enough to attack the monastery,” Dimitri said from beside them. “By the way...Sir Byleth, Lady Belle: this will be your first time here, will it not? I’d be happy to show you around if you’d like.” 

“I can handle that,”  Jeralt’s gruff voice made Claude’s heart leap into his throat. 

The Blade Breaker had broken off from where he’d been talking to Alois and some of the Knights of  Seiros to rejoin his children. His eyes were hard and narrowed with distrust and unease, and Claude could read his hesitation and annoyance like an open book. 

He didn’t want to be here in the slightest: if anything,  Jeralt wanted to take his kids and run as fast as he could in the opposite direction, which he probably would have done if a small army of Knights weren’t watching his every move. 

Just what was his history with the Church? Why had he chosen to disappear in some great fire over twenty years ago? 

Claude stole a glance at the twins, trying to gauge how old they were. 

“To think I’d come back here,”  Jeralt grumbled, fiddling with the nasty-looking sword hanging from his waist. 

“What do you want to do?” Belle asked her father, rubbing her hip where her leg armor met the breastplate she wore. 

“You and your brother stay close to me at all times, is that clear?”  Jeralt answered. “Whatever the Church tells you, don’t believe it. Their stories, their legends, none of it.” 

Oof, this guy was going to be popular in the monastery, that was certain. 

“Understood,”  Byleth answered, stretching his arms with a small clatter of metal. “I will keep myself ready for combat if needed.” 

Jeralt sighed. “Don’t worry too much about it, kid. If we have to fight our way out, we’re all dead. The Church has a damn army of Knights ready to lay down their lives for the Goddess and for Rhea.” 

Not to mention a wielder of a Hero’s Relic. Claude had heard rumors about this Thunder Catherine, but he had yet to see her in person. Supposedly, she wielded her sacred weapon with such ferocity that she could dismantle an entire army on her own. 

The group walked in silence to town, passing each wide-open gap in the outer defenses until they strode into the bustling heart of  Garreg Mach. Crowds of people walked the cobblestone streets, splitting apart to walk sprawling courtyards filled with statues of the Saints or being drawn to the various stalls and stores where merchants hawked their wares to any and all who would listen. 

All manner of folks filled Claude’s vision, from simple people in simple clothes to rich merchants and nobles wearing silken finery of a make that probably cost about as much as one of those statues. Mixed with the crowd were some soldiers in finely made white plate armor, chainmail, or hauberks all emblazoned with the Crest of the Church of Seiros, the selfsame Crest that Edelgard had. 

Speaking of the princess...Claude stole a glance at the girl and saw her staring straight ahead, her back straight and her chin held high as a face more imperious than the Saint statues made anyone looking at her quickly avert their gaze. Dimitri was more welcoming, smiling and lifting his hands in greeting as some onlookers called out greetings to the group or to him, specifically. 

Nobody really said anything to Claude, but he didn’t care. The less attention was on him, the more he could get where he really shouldn’t be to uncover the secrets filling the walls of  Garreg Mach. After all, it was the danger you couldn’t see that was more of a threat. 

“If the captain’s mercenaries would come with me, I’ll see to it that you’re afforded some lodging in town at the Church’s behest,” one of the Knights of  Seiros called, waving  Jeralt’s mercenary company towards her. 

Predictably, the mercs hesitated, looking to their captain for assurance. 

“Go on, but don’t cause any trouble,”  Jeralt sighed. “If someone tries to start something with you, end it without bloodshed. I don’t want to hear about a brawl ending in the death of a Knight of  Seiros or one of the Church’s soldiers, got it?” 

“Yes, sir, Captain Jeralt!” the mercenaries saluted and then followed the Knight calling for them.

“What did that mercenary say?” a small crowd had gathered to see what the mercenaries were doing with such a large escort of Knights. 

“Captain  Jeralt ? The Blade Breaker?” a woman gasped. 

“No way!” a younger man was pointing at Jeralt. “That’s him! The famous mercenary!” 

Claude could almost feel the eyes falling on him and the twins, next. 

“Are those them? The Demon Twins?” someone asked. 

Demon Twins? Apparently, these two had quite a reputation! Claude had only heard about  Jeralt being famous, not the twins.

“The emotionless stares...eyes as black as night...” an older gentleman dressed in well-worn clothes suited for travel murmured. “Aye. Those two are the Demon Twins, alright.” 

Claude raised an eyebrow at the words and glanced at the twins’ dark eyes. Black as night, really? 

“The girl is quite gorgeous,” another young man mused, and Claude saw the speaker trying to smooth his hair. “You think she’s single?”

Another man next to him elbowed the speaker. “Don’t even try it! She’s said to leave scores of dead in her wake wherever she goes, including those unlucky enough to try to court her! She’ll eat you alive!”

The first man flinched. “Really? Urgh, maybe I should just look for someone who isn’t going to kill me.” 

Claude snorted, which drew a raised eyebrow from  Jeralt as the mercenary’s glare roamed over the growing crowd. 

“Is the brother blind?” another person in the crowd asked. “He’s wearing a blindfold.” 

“He’s pretty cute even with that blindfold,” a few girls were chattering and looking at Byleth. “I’d love to get my hands on that muscular body of his.”

“Do you think he’d like to see one of us?” one of the group asked her friend. 

“I can’t see anyone,” Byleth muttered. “What are they talking about?” 

Claude tried to fight down his laugh this time, well aware that  Jeralt’s annoyed glare was once again boring holes into him. 

“Ow!” a cry from one of the girls drew his attention again, to where she was rubbing her reddening cheek. 

“What was that?” the others wore expressions ranging from shock and fear that they may be next. 

“Something hit me!” the struck girl winced. “But...nobody did it!” 

“Odd,” Alois muttered. “She’s clearly been struck but I didn’t see anyone do it. She just recoiled all of a sudden. Maybe it was a ghost?” He shuddered at that word and quickly moved away from the girl. 

Claude glanced at the twins, but both were predictably expressionless as they continued gazing at the crowd. 

“Alright, alright, that’s enough gawking!” Alois yelled after collecting himself. “Captain, if you and your children will come with me.”

“Lead the way,”  Jeralt rumbled, placing one hand on each of his children’s shoulders. “Stay close to me, both of you.” 

They nodded in unison. 

The three students and three mercenaries followed Alois and a contingent of Knights through the town, stopping before a massive portcullis of heavy wood that lead into the Monastery, itself. 

“Lift the gate!” a Knight barked, the cry being carried by others until a loud grinding noise drowned them out. 

The mechanism raising the portcullis fought mightily against the weight it was lifting as the wooden wall slid upwards into the groove carved into the stone wall for it, iron teeth gleaming with murderous intent. It hooked into place with a loud clang, and Alois led the group through the small market area normally reserved for the Knights and staff.

Armor, weapons, some foodstuffs, and a guild where you could sign on as a soldier in service to the Church: everything a monastery needed to supply its troops, monks, and students.

Blacksmiths hammered away at red-hot metal in blazing forges, spraying sparks with each harsh clang while the next door  shopkeep was showing a Church soldier a new breastplate and haggling with them over the price. 

“Students, if you’ll return to your Houses, I will take these three up to meet Lady Rhea,” Alois declared.

Claude chafed a bit at the dismissal, but he figured he had no other choice. He turned to say farewell to the mercenaries and found them staring upwards, following their gaze to see a balcony extending over the main hall. Lady Rhea, herself, was standing upon it, the breeze rustling her headdress and bright green hair as she gazed down at them.

“Lady Rhea,”  Jeralt murmured. “Damn it all.” 

“Take care, my friends,” Dimitri said to the mercenaries. “I hope to see you around the monastery again.” 

“Edie!” the songstress of the Black Eagle House, Claude thought her name was Dorothea, barreled down the stairs, passed the mercenaries, and all but tackled the princess, making her yelp. “I’m so glad you’re alright! There have been rumors flying all around the monastery that you, Claude, and Dimitri were attacked!” 

“I-I’m fine, Dorothea!” Edelgard spluttered. “There was no need to tackle me!” 

“We’re fine, too, just so you know,” Claude spoke up. “These guys really saved our skins against those bandits.” 

Bandits who had known exactly where the students would have been camping for this exercise. Claude wasn’t foolish enough to believe that this had been random: someone had sent those thugs to kill himself, Dimitri, and Edelgard. 

Only question was who. 

“Really?” Dorothea glanced at the mercenaries as they followed Alois up into the entrance hall. “They don’t look like regular soldiers.” 

“They’re mercenaries,” Dimitri explained. “The twins are the children of  Jeralt the Blade Breaker, former captain of the Knights of Seiros.” 

“The Blade Breaker? Oh my,” Dorothea tugged on Edelgard’s arm. “Come on, Edie! Everyone’s been worried sick about you! Tell us everything!” 

“We should probably get back to our classmates,” Claude sighed, shaking his head. “Man, Lorenz is going to be disappointed that I survived.” 

Oh well. It was quite entertaining to mess with the guy. He acted like a stuck-up noble, but Claude could tell that he meant well and really wanted to do right by the common people. Didn’t make his attitude any less annoying, however.

The students made their way through the halls to the Academy, itself, and Claude was immediately swarmed by his classmates the second he entered the Golden Deer’s classroom.

“See? I told you he’d be fine!” Hilda crowed.

“I’m glad you’re okay, Claude!” Ignatz said from the side of the room.

“A pity you emerged unscathed,” Lorenz sighed, his reaction annoyingly predictable. “That does not change the fact that the Alliance should be lead by-”

“Can it, Lorenz,” Lysithea snapped from next to him, the girl lifting her nose from the stack of books she’d been engrossed in. “Nobody wants to hear your monologues about how you’re the best noble choice for the next head of the Roundtable.” 

“Hey, there’s no need to bicker!” Raphael interceded. “Why don’t we head over to the dining hall for a bite?” 

“Claude, is it true?” Leonie slammed her hands on the desk next to Claude and invaded his personal space with her face. “Did you run into Jeralt?” 

“Marianne, aren’t you glad that Claude’s okay?” he heard Hilda talking to Count Edmund’s adopted daughter, who squeaked and stammered out a reply. 

Her shyness was quite endearing, if Claude was being honest, but she really needed to work on her self-confidence. 

Now, as for the girl shoving her face into Claude’s...

He backed smoothly away to reclaim his space, brushing off his uniform as he did so. “Yeah, we did. After making our escape from the bandits, we ran into not one, but both of Jeralt’s children. They helped us get to safety, and we met the man, himself.” 

He could almost see the stars gleaming in Leonie’s eyes even as she frowned. “Children? I didn’t know Captain  Jeralt had children. He didn’t have any when he came by my village.” 

“They’re called the Demon Twins,” Claude nodded. 

“Wait. A. Minute,” Hilda lifted her hands as if that alone would make time stop. “ Jeralt’s _ children _ are the infamous Demon Twins? How old are they?” 

“Maybe a bit older than we are,” Claude frowned, trying to conjure up an image of the blank, expressionless faces of the twins in his mind. “I didn’t get their exact ages.” 

Leonie frowned again. “I don’t remember him having twins when I first met him. He never said anything about them.” 

Curious, but Claude could see that  Jeralt had taken great pains to keep his children isolated from the rest of the world as they grew up, to the point where they had no idea what the Church of  Seiros was. Perhaps he had left them with the mercenary company while he’d been in  Sauin Village with Leonie? 

“They’ve been pretty isolated,” Claude mused. “I mean, they didn’t even know about the Church of Seiros.” 

“Absurd!” Lorenz spluttered. “Nobody could be that ignorant!” 

“Like I said:  Jeralt has kept them in pretty tight isolation, almost like he was trying to hide them,” Claude explained. “That might be why he didn’t say anything about them in  Sauin Village.” 

“That sounds pretty lonely,” Ignatz murmured. “I don’t know if I could enjoy a life like that.” 

“Me neither,” Raphael shook his head, and Claude tried to position himself so that if one of the young man’s straining buttons on his suffering shirt vaulted off, it wouldn’t shoot through Claude’s skull. “I’m glad I’ve got my sis and grandfather!” 

“And if he was trying to hide them, who was he hiding them from?” Lysithea wondered, then shook her head. “I don’t have time to waste on this. When’s the Professor going to be back, Claude?” 

Oh...right...

Claude coughed. “Um, Professor Reeves was killed by the bandits while trying to flee.” 

His classmates flinched at the news, shock written plainly across their faces. 

“The Professor’s dead?” Ignatz gasped. “Who’s going to teach us now, on such short notice?” 

“I’m sure the Church will find someone, right?” Raphael insisted. “We all worked hard to get here, so they’ve gotta get someone to teach us!” 

“Maybe they’ll get Captain  Jeralt to be a teacher!” Leonie suggested, her eyes gleaming. “That would be incredible!”

“Um, Leonie, isn’t he a mercenary?” Hilda asked, at which Leonie nodded. “He probably doesn’t have much experience teaching academy subjects. I don’t think  Seteth would allow that.” 

“ Seteth is pretty strict about that sort of thing, but wouldn’t the appointment be up to Lady Rhea?” Ignatz added. “ Jeralt worked here once before, didn’t he?” 

“Yeah, as the Captain of the Knights of  Seiros ,” Claude nodded. “Before he disappeared in some massive fire about twenty years ago.” 

All of this was just too mysterious: a famed knight captain disappears in a fire and then reappears two decades later trying to hide from the Church? Just what did he find out that made him leave? And how were the twins involved? 

Gah, this was going to give Claude the mother of all headaches! 

“How strange,” Hilda mused. “Don’t you think so, Marianne?” 

“Um, y-yes?” 

Adorable. 

“So, spill all the juicy details!” Hilda declared, twirling one of her meticulously groomed twintails around her fingers. “Tell us everything!” 

Claude sighed as the others, save for Lysithea, leaned closer in anticipation of the story to be told. Looks like he wasn’t getting out of this one, huh. 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Today had certainly been different, from starting off fighting bandits in the middle of training and saving those three students along the way, then being brought to this...monastery that served a faith that she had never even heard of before.

Beleth, daughter of  Jeralt and twin sister of Byleth, stood in silence in a large, elaborate audience chamber grander than anything she’d ever seen, with vaulted ceilings from which hung chandeliers, waiting for this Rhea to emerge. 

Her father was antsy, more so than she’d ever known, his discomfort and desire to get the hells out of this place making her hand twitch around the hilt of her sword. She’d been surprised that the Knights on guard had actually let them keep their weapons, but at least they had more tools with which to defend themselves should the need arise. 

She turned her attention to her brother, who was just staring straight ahead. If things went bad, he would probably be taking on the worst of the fighting, as always. His blindness belied his ferocity in battle, but of course he had a bit of help circumventing that handicap.

“Quint was upset, earlier, huh?”  Jeralt finally spoke, perhaps to fill the silence.

“No more than usual,” Beleth shrugged. “He prefers I don’t use the climbing function he put on my legs, but I had no choice. I tried to lessen the strain with my gravity magic.” 

“You did fine, kid,”  Jeralt ruffled the top of her head, and she took a moment to appreciate how good it felt. “Quint just likes to gripe, y’know.” 

“He does,” Byleth agreed. 

“Does he have to be quite so loud, however?” the only other woman in the room demanded, her green eyes roaming over the decorative urns and busts in the room. “I feel as if I am going to lose my hearing whenever he opens that big mouth of his!” 

Sothis was currently leaning against  Byleth , her tall, wiry frame covered in her strange blue dress and the many ribbons that were tied to her gangly arms and barefoot legs. Her darker green hair cascaded down her back in waves, tied up with two bands that made her almost look like a bush. 

“So, back in town,”  Jeralt looked at his two kids, squinting at the space between them. “Was that her?” 

“Sothie? Yup,” Beleth nodded. 

She couldn’t remember when the small green-haired girl had first shown up when the twins were younger, but Sothis was family just as much as Jeralt was, even if only the twins could see and hear her. As they had grown up, so had she, almost reflecting their appearance with her own even if her personality had remained the same. 

“How many times must I remind you not to call me by that wretched nickname?!” Sothis snapped, stomping her foot against the floor. “I am Sothis, not  Sothie !” 

“Not going to lie: I thought I was finally losing my mind when the troops began reporting objects moving on their own in camp, talking about a ghost that you two were constantly talking to. You really freaked them out at first, you know,”  Jeralt recalled. “I managed to calm them, but still.”

“Did you really expect me not to explore how much I can interact with the physical world around me?” Sothis rolled her eyes. “I will not deny that I enjoy messing with everyone a bit, however.” 

“So, why did you slap that girl?” Beleth asked, able to picture vividly how an infuriated Sothis had stormed up to the chattering village girls and slapped one across the face. 

Jeralt chuckled and shook his head. “So that’s what that was, huh?” 

Sothis practically draped herself over  Byleth’s broad shoulders. “I would not allow some floozy to get her claws into my dear Byleth. I was going to kick that other man who was commenting about you, Belle, but he was smart enough to give up on his foolish ambitions.” 

“You’re too protective sometimes, Sothis,”  Byleth sighed, but Belle could see her brother’s lips curving into a slight smile. 

Jeralt snorted. “Always nice to have someone else to keep an eye on you two.” 

“You two are my most precious mortals,” Sothis said as she slid off of  Byleth and spread her arms wide so she could touch an arm from each twin. “Of course I am going to look out for you against any unsavory fools.” 

The door behind them ground open, allowing a Knight of Seiros to stride in.

“Presenting Her Holiness, the Archbishop of The Church of Seiros!” the Knight declared, his voice filling the chamber. “Lady Rhea!” 

He stepped aside and pulled the door open with him as he did, and the elegant woman that  Jeralt had pointed out on the balcony earlier glided into the room. The elaborate white robes she wore, emblazoned with the same insignia that the Knights often wore, showed off her figure well, and Beleth found herself studying the woman’s gentle and almost too beautiful face as painted lips curved into a gentle smile.

“It’s been quite some time,  Jeralt ,” Rhea almost glided past the trio to take her place in front of an elegant throne, folding her hands before her stomach as she turned to face them. “It is wonderful to see you again.” 

She was joined by another man in a blue shirt and pants with more intricate symbols on them, his features stern as dark green eyes pierced into Beleth. 

“Lady Rhea, I pray you will forgive my absence and my silence,”  Jeralt bowed, motioning for the twins to do the same. “Much has happened since I’ve left the monastery.” 

Beleth bent at the waist, but only low enough to where she could keep her eyes on Rhea and her unnamed attendant, ready to launch herself at them if need be. 

“This one feels familiar, but I cannot place it,” Sothis was poking around Rhea, frowning as she stared into the woman’s face from mere inches away. “Why is it that I feel I know you?” 

“I have heard much of your accomplishments, Blade Breaker,” Rhea nodded, an amused smile on her lips. “I’m afraid that all of our attempts to reach out to you failed, and I wish to apologize for that.” 

Jeralt grunted. “The fault is mine, Lady Rhea. My obligations demanded that I move frequently in order to fulfil my contracts. I scarcely had time to stay in one place for more than a month.” 

“Yet I cannot help but wonder why you left us in the first place,” Rhea mused. 

The man next to her cleared his throat, and the Archbishop shot him a side glance. 

“Pray forgive my lack of manners,” she said easily, the warmth in her voice never fading. “This is Seteth. He has been my assistant and attendant these past few years.” 

“A pleasure,”  Seteth said, his voice cool as he bowed as well. “I have heard quite a bit from Alois about you and your, ahem, children.” 

Jeralt nodded to the duo, and Beleth took the cue to step forward next to her father. 

“I am Beleth,” she introduced herself. 

“I am Byleth,” her brother stepped forward, Sothis once again at his side.

It wasn’t favoritism, per se, but rather a necessary interaction between the duo. 

“What on earth?” Rhea closed the distance between her and  Byleth in scarcely a heartbeat, a frown on her lips.

It took Beleth several moments to unclench her fingers from around her sword’s rough hilt.

The blindness, again? Why was everyone making such a big deal over it? 

“Where did you get this armor?” Rhea’s demand made Beleth look over to see that the Archbishop had grabbed one of  Byleth’s arms and had lifted it up to examine it. “This is of our making.” 

The arms? 

Jeralt hesitated, but Byleth spoke instead. 

“It’s not armor, Lady Rhea,” he explained. 

Rhea frowned even deeper, gazing at his blindfold. “What happened to your eyes, Sir Byleth?” 

“Accident,” was all he said. “Same one that took my arms and Beleth’s legs.” 

“Your what?” even  Seteth balked. “What do you mean?” 

“His arms and the girl’s legs are fakes, made from the same mechanical parts as our golems,” Rhea stepped back as her gaze roamed over Beleth’s legs. “Who made these for you? Only a select few know how to make and maintain our golems.” 

Golems? Made from the same parts as her legs and  Byleth’s arms? Hadn’t Quint said something of the sort when he’d first met them? He refused to speak much of his past. 

“I’m not saying,”  Jeralt grunted, hostility radiating from him as he reached out and urged  Byleth behind him. 

Seteth bristled. “You will treat Lady Rhea with due respect, mercenary. You aren’t the Captain of the Knights, anymore.” 

Beleth crouched into a battle stance, reaching for her sword yet again as  Byleth made to draw his own blades. 

“Peace, all of you!” Rhea’s stern command rang through the room. “There will be no violence between us.” 

Jeralt motioned at the twins to stop, and Beleth straightened but kept her hand near her sword hilt in case she needed it while Byleth did the same. “Why are we here?”

Rhea gave him an apologetic smile. “Forgive me if I didn’t seize the opportunity to reunite with an old friend, especially after your children rescued the heads of the Academy’s three houses from an untimely demise. I wished to see you.” 

“Well, you’ve seen us,”  Jeralt said coolly. “I get the feeling you want more than that, however.” 

“Can you blame me?” Rhea laughed lightly. “Our current Knight Captain is getting on in years, and we have actually been seeking his potential replacement so he could begin training them to take over his responsibilities. It would be more fortuitous, however, if we could get a captain who already knew his way around the job.” 

A job? For this church that her father so clearly disliked? 

“You want me to return to my former job,”  Jeralt muttered, his fingers twitching around the still-empty flask on his waist. “What of my children?” 

Rhea’s gaze shifted from  Byleth to Beleth, making her defensive instincts flare despite the warmth and kindness radiating from the Archbishop’s gentle green eyes. “I would like for them to take up employment within the monastery as well. I. ..was informed of the unfortunate demise of the professor of the Golden Deer, so it appears we have need of a new instructor.” 

“Instructor?” Sothis spluttered, looking between the twins. “Them?!” 

And then her shoulders began to shake as she burst into laughter. 

Beleth did her best to ignore the cackling girl as she saw utter bewilderment on both  Seteth and  Jeralt’s faces. 

“Lady Rhea, neither of these two could possibly be qualified for such a position!” the advisor insisted. “Why should we trust one of these two Demons to shape the minds and capabilities of our students?!” 

“You overstep,  Seteth ,” Rhea snapped, her kind gaze vanishing into something much more merciless and unforgiving as she glared at the man. “They may be strangers to you, but as children of  Jeralt , I trust them explicitly with our students. There is no need to call them demons.” 

“Oh, those poor students! They are quite doomed!” Sothis giggled, yelping as  Byelth discretely jabbed her side with his elbow.

Seteth flinched. “Lady Rhea, they are quite literally known by the moniker ‘The Twin Demons’. They are feared all across  Fodlan for their ferocity in battle!”

“Ah, forgive me: I was not aware that  _ they _ were the infamous mercenary duo known as the Twin Demons,” Rhea composed herself and gave the advisor an apologetic smile before turning back to the mercenaries. “So, you are skilled mercenaries who have seen much from your travels through  Fodlan , I presume? You have much worldly experience on and off the battlefield?” 

“Yes, I taught them everything I could,”  Jeralt said. 

Rhea smiled. “Then it is decided: one of them shall replace Professor Reeves as instructor of the Golden Deer House. The other shall be employed in the monastery staff, with full pay and lodging for both of them.”

“Oh, gods, I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe!” Sothis wheezed from next to Byleth, holding her stomach as she tried to contain her laughter.

Beleth continued to ignore her. 

“As you wish, Lady Rhea,”  Seteth sighed. “But who will be the new professor?” 

“Beleth,”  Byleth said immediately. “She has a far better memory for this sort of thing than I do.”

“Does she?” Rhea asked, her gaze going to Beleth.

A shiver went up her spine from the scrutiny. 

“Yes, she does,”  Jeralt sighed, shaking his head. “The girl’s memory is sharper than any blade in Fodlan. Beleth: what was the last job we took in the Alliance six months ago?” 

She recalled the details instantly, as if they’d been lurking just beneath the surface and waiting to reemerge. “Client was Lord Gloucester. Job was to eradicate several dens of bears that had been encroaching on Greenfern Village and damaging crops. The payment was fifty gold for each bear slain.” 

Jeralt nodded. “See what I mean? Even I’ve forgotten the details.” 

“Impressive,” Rhea mused, a small smile on her lips. “Very well. I name Beleth Eisner the new Professor of the Golden Deer.”

Sothis burst into another round of nearly hysterical giggling.

“I do not think a blind man would have been a good choice,”  Seteth muttered from behind Rhea, making the Archbishop sigh. “How would he read the material? Imagine! A Professor who cannot even perform his sole duty!” 

That finally made Sothis stop laughing and fix a fierce glare upon  Seteth , placing her hands on her hips as she did so. “He has me, thank you very much! My eyes are more than enough!” 

She then made an unquestionably rude gesture at  Seteth before striding back over to  Byleth and wrapping him possessively into her arms. 

“Now, Sir  Byleth , if you are to be employed in the monastery, I would like to ask what your skills are,” Rhea turned to the man, blissfully unaware of the nasty glare Sothis was shooting her. 

If looks could kill, Rhea would likely be in pieces on the floor right now.

“Do you think him a worthless lout because he is blind?! He is better than your entire army of Knights combined!” the woman yelled right into Byleth’s ear.

He somehow managed not to flinch. “I can fight and I can repair weapons and armor. My arms are good for more delicate work if needed.” 

“Are you certain? I do not wish to doubt you, but they are quite bulky,” Rhea gestured at the mechanical limbs, which were of course twice as wide and broad as a regular person’s arms.

“Oh, you haven’t even seen what he can do with those,”  Jeralt murmured, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. “Go ahead,  Byleth . Show her.” 

Byleth nodded, and Sothis wisely retreated several feet away from him as he lifted his arms out to his side. Metal clanked and rattled loudly, and the plates comprising the limbs peeled apart and separated until the two thick arms had been replaced by four almost serpentine ones. 

“Oh, my!” Rhea looked quite delighted. “That is impressive.” 

Byleth made each arm move in a different direction, the five fingers on each extending and clenching into fists. 

“He’s stronger than anyone I’ve ever met, and the alterations on his arms allow him to perform a variety of more delicate tasks,”  Jeralt said with no small amount of pride. 

“But why does he have four arms?”  Seteth asked. “Beleth has two legs, does she not?” 

The advisor looked suspiciously at Beleth as if she would sprout extra legs and start scuttling about like some sort of insect.

“When we were first trying out the mechanical arms, they kept failing, running out of power, or just outright falling off, so we attached a second set in case something happened to the first,”  Jeralt explained. “After a while, we managed to get a design that worked without any issues, but  Byleth had managed to master the use of all four at once and wanted to keep the extra set.” 

“Four arms are much more useful than just two,”  Byleth said with a serious nod. 

“And two heads are better than one,” Sothis added, bumping  Byleth with her shoulder.

“I do not hear anything with which to disagree,” Rhea smiled, not noticing how  Byleth nearly stumbled from Sothis’s bump. “Byleth shall attend to our needs around the monastery and town as necessary, then. We’ll get in touch with our foreman and see what can be done, but for now, why don’t you two take a moment to familiarize yourselves with the monastery and our students?”

“I suppose I’m to immediately get to work and introduce myself to the staff?”  Jeralt surmised, at which Rhea nodded. “Fine.” 

“Then this matter is concluded,” the Archbishop declared, her smile gentle as she took in her three new employees. “I look forward to seeing how you all perform. If you will excuse me, I have other issues requiring my attention.” 

She and  Seteth then left the room, closing the door behind them. 

Jeralt swore loudly the moment the duo was out of earshot. “Forced back into the Knights of Seiros. After all these damn years avoiding the Church, we’re dragged right back to their gods-damned doorstep.”

“Should we comply, Father?” Beleth asked, admitting that this place did make her feel...uneasy. 

“We have no choice, kid,”  Jeralt sighed, shaking his head as he looked at his empty flask. “Nobody can just refuse an order from the Archbishop of the Church of  Seiros . Do what tasks they tell you to do, but remember what I said.” 

“Do not believe them,”  Byleth said. 

Jeralt nodded. “Whatever they tell you, keep your guard up and remember that they are not to be trusted. Nobody from the Church is, especially not Rhea.” 

“Yes, Father,” Beleth nodded. 

He clearly knew something they didn’t, and Father had never steered them wrong once. Well...not intentionally, that is. 

That job in the Teutates Lake didn’t count.

“If either of you need anything, my office is probably going to be the first one on the left,”  Jeralt pointed at the door. “Past that door and down the hallway, that is. Just poke your head in and make sure I’m not dealing with anyone else before you come barging in, got it?” 

“Yes, Father,” the twins spoke in unison. 

Jeralt looked at both of them and his face softened. “Trust in each other and do what you have to do. If I can get us out of here without setting another fire or drawing Rhea’s attention, I’ll let you know.” 

He strode towards the doors, pushed them open, and then vanished on the other side as they slammed shut behind him. 

Beleth glanced at  Byleth and found him already facing her. “Shall we explore, brother?” 

“Let’s,” he nodded. 

“I agree!” Sothis chimed, grabbing both of them by the hand. “Let our adventure commence!” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Byleth is General Grievous confirmed  
> His arms are basically smaller versions of the golem arms, and Beleth's legs are the golem legs from their concept art. (the ones that show the things without their massive metal skirt things)   
> And Sothis grows with the twins because I really love the idea of having an older Sothis. She's still our favorite gremlin, though.


	3. Assignment

Claude just finished his grand and not-at-all-embellished story, and already he could see that his classmates were starstruck. 

“That sounded incredible!” Hilda declared. 

Lysithea, however, asked a question that Claude had been waiting for: “What did you say that Belle woman was using? Gravity magic?” 

“Yup,” Claude nodded. “I’ve never seen anything like it before. Just one spell and we were floating while Belle carried Her Highness up a tree and jumped across like it was nothing.” 

That woman and her brother...just what secrets were they hiding? Them and Jeralt? They weren’t ordinary mercenaries; that idea had gone out the window immediately, what with the blind warrior who was somehow able to take down the bandit leader and who knows how many others. And a woman who could manipulate gravity...by the gods of the earth and sky, this was tantalizing! 

“To think that you were lucky enough to run into not one but both of the Demon Twins,” Ignatz shook his head in disbelief. “I’ve heard stories of them wiping out entire packs of monsters just on their own.” 

“What do they look like?” Leonie wondered. 

A tell-tale clanking noise in the distance reached Claude’s ears, growing steadily closer until the entire class looked out the open doors to see two similarly-clad figures approaching. 

“Like that,” Claude answered, lifting a hand in a wave as the Demon Twins strode into the classroom of the Golden Deer. 

“I thought they would look more like Captain Jeralt,” Leonie muttered, but Claude could hear how impressed she was. 

“T-they look so strong and...scary,” Marianne whispered. 

“What brings you to our humble classroom?” Claude asked with a wave of his hand as if it would encompass the very room within the gesture. 

“Rhea has assigned me to be your new Professor,” came Belle’s answer. 

It was so quiet, Claude swore he could hear the thoughts rampaging through his stunned classmates’ heads. Oh, wait, those were his own. 

“I’m sorry, what?” Lysithea blurted, her incredulous look almost making Claude wish he could have painted a picture of it for posterity. “You? A common mercenary?” 

“Hey, she’s the daughter of Captain Jeralt!” Leonie came to the common mercenary’s defense, a huge grin on her face. “It’s nice to meet you! I’m Leonie Pinelli: Jeralt’s first and greatest apprentice! I’m sure he’s told you all about me?” 

Two blank stares met her declaration, at which the girl visibly wilted. 

“You cannot be serious!” Lysithea slammed her palms on her desk as she pushed herself up. “We need an actual, trained professor who has an academic background! Not some mercenary, even if she is the daughter of the former Knights of Seiros captain!” 

“Lysithea, you need not be so harsh!” Lorenz tutted from next to the girl, becoming the next target of one of her infamous death glares. “After all, Professor Manuela isn’t quite an academic, either, is she not? Surely, Miss Belle is just as capable of seeing to our educational needs!” 

“Beleth,” the mercenary corrected. “My name is Beleth Eisner.” 

Lorenz balked, and Claude wished he could paint that expression as well. “M-my apologies, Miss Beleth! I did not mean to come across as overtly familiar.” 

“Wait,” Claude frowned as he remembered something. “Your names are Beleth and Byleth? Matching names?” 

“Father always said our mother chose those names,” Byleth informed them. 

Come to think of it...where, and who, was their mother? Claude took a closer look at the duo, turning his keen eyes to the gaps in their unusual armor. 

“That’s why some prefer to call me Belle,” Beleth shrugged and looked at the others. “The rest of you? Names?” 

“I am Hilda Valentine Goneril!” Hilda strode up to the duo and bowed, a sweet smile on her lips as she took Marianne’s arms and tugged the other girl forward. “And this is...” 

Marianne looked at her, saw her nodding towards the duo, and gave them a meek bow. “M-Marianne von Edmund!” 

“There you go!” Hilda pat the other girl’s shoulders. “I look forward to seeing more of both of you!” 

“A pleasure,” Beleth and Byleth spoke in unison, which was only made creepier when they bowed in perfect sync. 

“I’m Raphael Kirsten!” the huge teen declared, lifting a hand large enough to flatten melons. “Pleased to meet ya!” 

“I’m Ignatz Victor. My parents are Alliance merchants, so maybe you’ve worked with them before?” Ignatz wondered, at which Beleth nodded. 

“Three years ago during first two weeks of the Horsebow Moon: a contract from Sir Gotthard Victor concerning bandits harassing his caravans,” she said without even blinking. “Payment was two hundred and forty gold.” 

Everyone stared at her, and even Claude found himself dumbfounded. It didn’t happen often, but by the gods, when it did... 

So, this was why she was the professor, eh? A near-perfect memory? Well, aside from her brother’s obvious blindness. 

“That’s...impressive,” Leonie broke the silence that followed. 

“Indeed!” Lorenz recovered as well. “I am Lorenz Hellman Gloucester of the Alliance’s most esteemed noble house!” 

“Lysithea von Ordelia,” even little Lysithea was looking at the duo with grudging respect in her eyes. “Please do not forget it.” 

“Already committed to memory,” came Beleth’s bland response. 

Then both pairs of dark eyes came to Claude, and he realized that everyone was staring at him. “Who, me? I suppose I have to formally introduce myself, don’t I? I am Claude von Riegan.” 

“Future Duke of the Leicester Alliance!” Hilda added as she playfully bumped Claude with her shoulder. 

“Not if I have anything to say about it,” Lorenz huffed under his breath, which naturally meant that everyone in the room heard it. 

“And what will you be doing around the monastery, Sir Byleth?” Ignatz asked, and Claude had to give the guy credit for knowing when to fill in a potentially awkward silence. 

Which he was normally creating because he lost his nerve to keep talking. 

“Whatever Lady Rhea’s people ask of me,” Byleth shrugged. 

Hilda stepped forward and studied his unusual arms. “My, you look strong! I would be ever so grateful if I could impose on you to help me with tasks every now and then!” 

Hilda, do you really think you can charm this guy into doing your chores for you? 

Byleth’s expression remained unchanged but he actually nodded. “If I can help, please don’t hesitate to ask.” 

Oh, you poor bastard. 

“Aw, thank you!” Hilda was practically gushing, really going all out as she beamed at the man that could not see her. “You’re such a sweetheart!” 

“Calling a man known as a demon a sweetheart?” Lysithea muttered, shaking her head. 

Even Leonie stifled a laugh at that. 

“Sorry if this is too much, Teach!” Claude came to his new teacher’s rescue, wondering if she really even needed it as her gaze snapped over to him. “The Golden Deer aren’t as stuffy as the other two classes, save for Lorenz,” -Lorenz scoffed at that- “but I think you’ll find that we’re a hardworking, unique bunch!” 

Both twins looked over the class, their faces infuriatingly impossible to read even as Beleth nodded. “I look forward to it. Lysithea, what are you reading?” 

Lysithea glanced down at her books. “Just the class materials for the next month or so. I wanted to get a head start.” 

“Would you mind if I read those with you?” Beleth asked. “I need to get a grasp on what I’m supposed to be teaching.” 

“Oh, um, not at all,” Lysithea shook her head. 

“Ah, there you are!” a Knight of Seiros appeared from behind the twins. “Lady Rhea sent me to fetch the two of you. I trust you’ve acquainted yourself with your class, Professor Eisner?” 

Beleth nodded, then opened her mouth. 

“You don’t have to recite their names, Belle,” Byleth hurriedly cut her off. “We’ll go with you.” 

Beleth nodded again, the lack of expression on her face once again unnerving Claude. He’d expected annoyance, or maybe exasperation, but that empty mask on her surprisingly beautiful face continued to remain in place. 

“We’ll see you later, Teach!” Claude gave them a friendly wave as the two mercenaries walked out with their guide, Beleth’s legs clanking loudly with each step she took. 

“Why does she wear that armor if it’s so noisy?” Hilda murmured. “It would drive me crazy.” 

“I don’t think it’s just armor,” Claude murmured to himself. “Not with the way she moves.” 

Same thing with Byleth’s arms: all Claude saw in the slight gaps in their armor was more metal, rather than flesh or even chainmail. 

Which would make them...what? Fakes? Claude had seen some reavers who’d lost limbs in raids, or to ill-tempered wyverns, and had replaced them with wooden legs or even hooks or claws. Nobody had ever managed to make metal replacements for arms and legs that worked just as well as the lost limbs, at least not in Almyra. 

Maybe someone in Fodlan had better knowledge and skills? 

“Well, this looks interesting!” Leonie pumped her fists in excitement. “Who knew that Beleth had such a good memory?” 

This year was certainly promising to be more than he’d bargained for, wasn’t it? 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

“So, what do you think of your students, Professor?” Rhea’s voice was light as Byleth and his sister met the Archbishop and Seteth back in the elaborate audience chamber. 

“They seem to be quite a handful,” Beleth commented, her amusement well-hidden in her eyes. 

Along with a minute bewilderment: she had never done anything even remotely similar to the job that had just been shoved into her hands, after all. Killing and fighting certainly didn’t prepare you to teach kids who were just a few years younger than you, after all. 

Not that anyone could tell just from looking at her: the twins seemed to be the only ones capable of seeing the emotions of their sibling, for some reason. 

“They are all quite unique!” Sothis agreed, the hand she held on him to steady her vision warm and buzzing with their joined power. 

“Turn your head a bit, please,” Byleth murmured. “I can’t quite see Rhea’s face.” 

Sothis complied, swiveling her head to focus more on the Archbishop rather than Beleth. The movement was disorienting even though Byleth hadn’t moved at all. 

“Where would you be without me?” the spectral woman asked, the smug pride in her voice conveying well through the way her fingers rested on his neck. 

She had to be touching his skin, directly, or else the sight was fuzzy and disjointed. They’d learned that the hard way, at first, when she’d only guided him by his metal arms. 

Byleth didn’t answer her, but he knew that while he could feel Sothis’s pride, as well as her confusion and concern with the lack of answers she had regarding Rhea’s familiarity, she could feel just how grateful he was for her precious gift of her sight. 

“Now, do you have any questions regarding your duties, Professor?” Rhea was talking to his sister again, her red-painted lips curved into an almost motherly smile. “Any concerns?” 

“So, I am to train them in their chosen combat roles and ensure that they have everything they need in regards for a knight-style military education?” Beleth questioned Rhea, at which she nodded. “Any restrictions?” 

“We would prefer that you do not kill or maim our students, as difficult as that might seem,” Seteth bit out, his mistrust and dislike of the two mercenaries bleeding through each word. “We can tend to any expected injuries that they sustain during the course of training, of course, but do not needlessly harm anyone.” 

What crawled up him and died, Byleth wondered? Perhaps it was just his job, but still, this level of near-hostility was irritating. 

“Seteth, that was not necessary,” Rhea chided. “I understand your concerns, but you need not be so harsh.” 

The man hesitated, about to speak to perhaps apologize, when another voice chimed in. 

“Oh, brother! There you are!” Sothis’s eyes swiveled to Byleth’s right, giving him a strange out-of-body view of himself that still made a shudder go up his spine. 

It was like looking in a mirror, yet he was seeing through someone else’s eyes. This never ceased to make him uneasy yet amused at the same time as he lifted a hand in a slight wave at himself. 

Sothis giggled, almost removing her fingers on his neck in her mirth. The woman had a love for laughter, yet for some reason it was especially hilarious to her if the twins were somehow involved. 

A girl with short bright green hair emerged next to Byleth, wearing a curious-looking short dress and leggings that appeared to be of an old Imperial style. She...was pretty cute, if Byleth was being honest. 

Before he could grab the stray thought and shove it back down, Byleth felt Sothis tense as she examined the new girl closely, curiosity and cold calculation flickering through both of them from her. 

“Flayn, what is it?” Seteth asked, some slight exasperation in his voice despite the concern and the flicker of a smile that crossed his face. “I am quite busy at the moment.” 

“My apologies! I hope I am not interrupting!” the girl said, her bright green eyes glittering with curiosity as her gaze roamed over the twins. “Who are you, pray tell?” 

“I am Beleth, the new Professor for the Golden Deer,” Belle said, some slight hesitation and uncertainty in her voice as she tried out the title. 

It didn’t quite sound real, yet, if Byleth was being honest. 

“And I’m Byleth,” Byleth echoed his sister, not really sure what more he should say about himself after that. 

Mercenary? Four-armed freak of nature? ‘Blind’ Demon? 

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance!” the girl apparently named Flayn declared with a bright and cheery voice that sent warmth rippling through Byleth. “I am Seteth’s little sister, Flayn.” 

“It’s nice to meet you, Lady Flayn” Byleth nodded, but Sothis’s head remained rigid as she stared daggers at little Flayn. 

The girl was maybe a couple years younger than himself? 

“Now is not the time to be thinking like this,” Sothis griped in his ears, then removed her fingers and plunged him back into darkness so abruptly that he almost stumbled. “We must focus on the task at hand!” 

“Byleth, if you are looking to begin work, Travis has been needing some more hands to perform repairs to the aqueduct near the fishing pond,” Rhea said, and Byleth turned his head in the direction of her voice. 

He could almost picture the elaborate room they were standing in, and his ears picked up the hollow sound of each controlled breath the Archbishop was taking. 

“I would be glad to lend mine to him,” Byleth assured her. “I may be blind, but I can carry things that would ordinarily take several men to haul.” 

“Wait, you are blind?!” Flayn blurted, earning a disapproving noise from Seteth. “O-oh, I am so sorry! I did not mean to sound so rude!” 

Byleth waved his hand dismissively in what he hoped to be her direction, assuming that she hadn’t moved. “You’re fine, Lady Flayn.” 

A rather pleased giggle escaped the girl at that. “Oh, please, you need not continue to be so formal! You may simply refer to me as Flayn.” 

“As you wish, Flayn,” Byleth nodded. 

“As pleased as I am to see you two getting along, I am afraid we have little time to spend on pleasantries,” Rhea’s voice interrupted them, but Byleth could almost hear her smile. “Byleth, I will send for someone to escort you to Travis so that you may show him your capabilities.” 

“Oh, Lady Rhea, I am going to the dining hall,” Flayn spoke up again, and Byleth could have sworn that she sounded closer despite him not hearing her move. “I could show Byleth the way!” 

“Flayn,” Seteth’s wary voice spoke volumes of his concern. “You need not worry about our new employee.” 

“He is blind, brother,” came the girl’s stubborn retort. “Surely you do not mean to have him stumble around the monastery until he falls over a shrub or a fence?” 

“As if I would allow that!” Sothis scoffed as if she was ignoring that she had, in fact, allowed Byleth to trip over shrubs, logs, and the occasional chicken or dog when they’d first started sharing her sight. 

Sometimes she’d even done so by design. 

“Of course not!” Seteth spluttered. “I was going to have a Knight escort him there.” 

“Well, now you do not need to,” Flayn declared, and Byleth felt her take ahold of his right arm. “I will guide him there, myself!” 

“Flayn!” came her brother’s protest. 

“Come now, Seteth,” Rhea chided. “If that is her wish, that what would be the harm in granting it? They are simply going through the monastery.” 

“I...I suppose,” the man murmured. “There will be plenty of other staff nearby if needed. Very well.” 

“Excellent! Let us be off, Sir Byleth!” Flayn’s cheery voice was followed by her tugging on his arm. 

“Surely, I am enough help, am I not?” Sothis muttered as her presence trailed alongside Byleth. 

He reached out with his arm, which perhaps looked like he was grasping for a wall as he brushed it against the spectral woman. 

“You are more than enough, Sothis, I promise,” he assured her. “I wouldn’t be where I am without you and I wouldn’t have it any other way.” 

He could feel the embarrassment and the pride radiating from Sothis as her hand took his own. “Of course, I wouldn’t have it any other way, either! The three of us are all intertwined, are we not? It would be remiss of me to not look after the two of you.” 

“There are some stairs here, Sir,” Flayn cut through the mental conversation. “Do be careful in going down!” 

“Thank you, Flayn. And you can just call me Byleth,” he responded. 

“Then I shall gladly do so!” came her cheery response. “Say, you and Professor Eisner are siblings, are you not?” 

“Twins,” Byleth nodded, trusting Flayn and Sothis to guide him through this unfamiliar place. 

“Siblings are wonderful, but I do wish that my brother wouldn’t be quite so protective of me!” Flayn sighed, and Byleth could hear the distant chattering of dozens of voices. 

Some were older, gruff, but most were younger and much more excited. Students, given that they were talking about classes, this or that person that so-and-so may be interested in, and so on. 

And the subject that immediately became prevalent was his and Beleth’s rescue of the three House heads. 

“I can’t believe that Prince Dimitri met both Demon Twins and survived,” one girl was saying. “I thought they were supposed to be cold-blooded killers!” 

“Did you hear that one of them is blind yet he somehow destroyed an entire army of bandits on his own, including their leader!” another chattered, awe and fear in her voice. 

“Hey, shh! Isn’t that him, there? With Flayn?!” several conversations halted at that, and Byleth could feel dozens of eyes boring into him from all over. 

He could hear their bated breath catch in their throats, perhaps waiting to see this Demon suddenly rip into his guide like a rabid animal. Their fear made his heart ache, and he tried to keep his grip on Flayn as loose as possible while his pulse pounded in his ears. 

Why did he always have the misfortune of overhearing conversations about him right as he entered a room? His hearing had grown a bit keener after losing his sight, but he still needed to rely heavily on Sothis in battle. 

Flayn, however, hadn’t heard any of the whispers emanating from the students and was chattering on quite happily as she continued tugging Byleth forward by the hand: “and this is the Training Grounds on our right! Professor Jeritza is the combat instructor, but he isn’t very sociable, I’m afraid.” 

He could hear the clacking of wooden weapons, grunts and impacts from within the grounds, which was being penetrated by sloshing water as Flayn guided him down more cobbled paths. 

“Here is the bathhouse,” she declared. “Brother doesn’t permit me to bathe anywhere but our private suite, but I must admit that I am dreadfully curious as to what this building contains!” 

“Probably a large public bath similar to a pool,” Byleth mused. “Maybe a few private ones for those who don’t want to share space with others.” 

“Oh, let a girl wonder!” Flayn giggled. “These are the student dorms! My brother says the Academy doesn’t like to give noble students special treatment regarding the allocation of their rooms, but students from certain families can be quite...what did he say...insistent?” 

The way she kept referring to Seteth as her brother sounded strange, as if she were forcing herself to do so. There was no hesitation in her words, for certain, but the frequent repetition sounded as if she were trying to remember his role in her life. 

“My, this girl is quite energetic!” Sothis exclaimed as they went down another short set of stairs. “I do not think she has stopped talking since our little tour began!” 

“You can be pretty similar,” Byleth pointed out, trying not to laugh. 

Sothis swatted the back of his head, but there was no real malice behind the gesture. 

“The dining hall and student gardens are to our left,” Flayn informed, blissfully ignorant to Sothis’s presence. 

That explained why Byleth could hear flames crackling, the clattering of metal, and the hurried barking of orders by what he presumed were the chefs. There was more water nearby, maybe some sort of waterfall, judging by the rushing and splashing he could pick out. 

“And this is my favorite spot in all the monastery!” his guide declared, her excitement plain in her voice as she practically bounced on her feet. “The fishing pond! Oh, all of the wonderful fish that swim in these waters...I can hardly contain my excitement!” 

She really liked fish, huh? Byleth could practically hear her drooling. 

“Hello, Miss Flayn!” an older male’s voice called. “Who’s this?” 

“Greetings, Travis!” Flayn returned the greeting with great enthusiasm. “I am merely showing Byleth around the monastery!” 

“You are Travis?” Byleth turned his head to where he’d heard the voice originate. “Lady Rhea instructed me to seek you out for my assignment.” 

The man took a surprised step back. “You’re the man Lady Rhea said she was sending over?! She didn’t say anything about you bein’ blind!” 

“I’m blind, but I can still do a lot of work,” Byleth deadpanned. “Flayn, can I have my hand back?” 

“Hmm? Oh, my apologies!” there was a slight shift of movement at his side and Byleth lifted his arms. 

“Anyone standing close to me? I don’t want to smack someone,” he asked aloud, even though the question was meant for Sothis. 

“Miss Flayn, you might wanna stand next to me. I don’t know what this bloke is gonna do,” Travis grunted. 

“Right away!” Flayn shuffled away. 

Byleth willed his arms to separate, peeling the plates apart with a clattering of metal. It was almost freeing, separating the two bulky limbs into four even as Flayn gasped and Travis swore. 

“By the Goddess! Metal arms?!” the older man’s cry drew the attention of everyone in the vicinity. “What the hells?!” 

“They’re stronger than they look,” Byleth said. “Just point me at what you need moved or done.” 

“Oh, my! I certainly wasn’t expecting this!” Flayn said, followed by...was she clapping?! 

Other stunned oaths were coming from onlookers behind and to the sides of Byleth, many of which he had heard before. 

“Wait, does that guy have four arms?” 

“I thought that was just armor!” 

“What happened to this guy?” 

“Huh, we could definitely use two-er, four extra hands around here,” Travis recovered remarkably quickly from the initial shock. “What with Dres bein’ laid out for the time bein’ lettin’ his arm heal... Yeah, yeah, we can do this.” 

Byleth would have picture the thoughtful expression on the man’s face if he knew what it looked like. He was about to reach out to Sothis to borrow her sight when he felt something, or someone, grab one of his arms. 

“You shall need a guide!” came Flayn’s declaration. “I am happy to provide one if you are willing to do something for me in return!” 

Byleth would have raised an eyebrow at her proposition if it wasn’t covered by his blindfold. “Which would be?” 

“I would like you to catch fish for me,” came her answer. “You can carry two rods, can you not?” 

“Four,” he corrected, which earned a small yet delighted gasp. “So long as the fish aren’t strong enough to break the lines or the rods, themselves, I can use one per arm.” 

“Fantastic! Then it is a deal!” Flayn said firmly. 

“Urgh, Seteth would have a fit if he knew I was takin’ his lil sis up the scaffolding, but...I need the extra manpower,” Travis sighed. “Damn it all. Alright you two: follow me and stay close! I’ll show ye where the we’re trying to patch up some gaps in the aqueduct.” 

“Alright,” Byleth nodded, before sending a mental request to Sothis to not walk him off the edge. 

“Of course I will not allow you to come to harm!” came her indignant response. 

“I’d say watch yer step, but, uh...Miss Flayn, just try not to guide him over the edge, alright?” came Travis’s voice. 

“I will not fail!” Flayn declared. 

Sothis, please don’t let her kill me. 


	4. Into the Forge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newly appointed Professor Eisner becomes more acquainted with her new class, while her brother is dragged hither and thither about the monastery by his enthusiastic guide, Flayn.

Beleth wasn’t quite sure what to think when Claude intercepted her outside of the dining hall, a smile that belied the curious and guarded light in his eyes painted across his face. 

“Hey, Teach!” he said cheerily, taking a bite out of a half-eaten apple. “Taking in the sights?” 

Perhaps this could be useful. 

“Could you tell me about your classmates?” Beleth asked. “I’d like to learn more about them.” 

“Sure, sure!” Claude said easily, that false smile never faltering as his green eyes twinkled in the evening light. “Now, who would you like some dirt on?” 

Beleth opened her mouth to answer, only for a Knight of Seiros call her name. 

“Professor Eisner! There you are!” the woman’s voice was slightly muffled behind the visor covering her face. “Sir Seteth is looking for his sister, Flayn. Have you seen her by the dining hall, perchance?” 

Flayn...that strange girl who’d insisted on guiding Byleth even though Sothis, alone, would more than suffice...at least for the short time they could share her sight before the strain became too much. 

“I haven’t, but she was escorting my brother around the grounds,” she answered. “He was supposed to go to a man named Travis for work.” 

“Travis? He’s working on the aqueduct at the moment,” the knight mused. “I’ll seek him out next. Thank you, Professor.” 

Beleth nodded as the knight moved away. 

“Uh, you don’t think Flayn went with your brother to fix the aqueduct, do you?” Claude mused, examining the core of his apple. “Seteth is going to have a heart attack.” 

“Why?” Beleth asked, raising an eyebrow at her House’s leader. “Flayn is perfectly safe with my brother.” 

“Because he has four metal arms?” Claude asked, glancing at her. 

“That is one reason, yes,” she nodded. “Byleth is faster and stronger than most people, and his four arms allow him no small measure of flexibility in almost every situation.” 

She would never stop being impressed by her brother’s skill on the battlefield, wielding his double-bladed spear and swords with ferocity that none could match. 

“How did that, and your legs, happen?” Claude asked. 

“Accident,” Beleth shrugged. “It’s not important. Now, about-” 

“Not important?” Claude interrupted with a raised eyebrow. “You both have false limbs that work better than the actual thing and your brother’s blind, all because of this one accident? Can’t blame me for being curious, Teach. Juicy secrets are my weakness.” 

Beleth jabbed his throat with her extended fingers once he finished, making him choke and splutter as he dropped his apple. “Don’t interrupt me again.” 

“Y-yes, ma’am,” he gagged, fear gleaming in his eyes as he fought to compose himself. 

Beleth waited patiently for her student to recover, taking a moment to wonder if she’d overdone it before he coughed. 

“Okay...who’d you want to talk about?” Claude asked, massaging his throat. 

“Everyone in the class I am to be teaching,” she answered. 

It would likely be those students she’d been introduced to earlier, if her intuition was telling her anything. 

“Okay...well, you’ve already met everyone, but I suppose I can give you a quick rundown...” 

Claude was quick and to the point about his classmates: describing their general personalities and standing in the Alliance with no wasted words. Good. 

And she’d been correct: Hilda Valentine Goneril, Leonie Pinelli, Ignatz Victor, Raphael Kirsten, Lorenz Hellman Gloucester, Marianne von Edmund, and Lysithea von Ordelia were indeed the primary students she was to take care of alongside Claude. 

“Professor Eisner!” Seteth’s voice interrupted her thoughts this time, and she resisted the irritation that flared up as he stormed up to her. “Did you know?” 

“Did I know what?” she asked, gazing coolly into his fearful and angry eyes. 

“That your brother took Flayn up the scaffolding on the aqueduct?! It’s beyond dangerous for her: what if she fell off?!” the advisor snapped. 

“I had no knowledge of it, and why are you so concerned?” Beleth asked. “If she was with my brother, there was nowhere safer she could have been. He wasn’t going to let her fall.” 

Seteth paused, incredulity written across his face as he stared at her. “You think a blind man would have caught her?” 

“Brother! Enough!” the girl in question stomped towards them, dragging Byleth behind her as she did. 

“Byleth!” Seteth started to wheel on the man, himself, but his sister interposed herself between them. 

“I insisted on leading him up there, myself!” the girl snapped. “And I was perfectly safe while he worked! His strength enabled Travis’s crew to finish the repairs in not even half the time they predicted! It was incredible, and now he will catch fish for me whenever I ask!” 

She beamed at Byleth, whose blindfold was shimmering with the telltale bond betwixt him and the green-haired woman who held her hand up against his neck. Sothis nodded to Beleth before returning to glaring at Seteth, her displeasure lethal enough to kill if she’d been able to muster such power. 

“I’m sorry, what?” Seteth paused. “He’ll...fish for you?” 

“Yes. Those were the terms of our agreement,” Byleth nodded. 

“I could catch you fish if you desired!” Seteth spluttered, but the look on Flayn’s face suggested that she took that claim with a grain of salt. 

“Brother, you often forget to even bait your hook,” she deadpanned. 

Claude looked like he was struggling to not laugh at Seteth’s stunned expression. 

“Besides!” Flayn continued, shooting Byleth an absolutely adoring gaze as she gestured at his mechanical arms. “Byleth has four arms! He can catch three times as much fish for me! Oh, I can hardly wait to begin!” 

“And what exactly was this agreement of yours?” Seteth asked, but he was noticeably calmer despite the vein pulsing on his forehead. 

“I’ll help guide Byleth around the monastery and he will catch me delicious, wonderous fish whenever I desire!” Flayn clapped happily, beaming as she clasped her hands together in anticipation. 

It was...oddly adorable, to say the least. 

“Sir Seteth, I swear on my life that I did everything I could to ensure her safety and was ready to catch her at a moment’s notice,” Byleth spoke up, and Beleth detected her brother’s amusement hidden beneath his words. 

“Yes, yes, I was perfectly safe!” Flayn declared. “Byleth was an absolute gentleman! He insisted on keeping one arm around my waist for my own safety and held onto my shoulders with his other two arms the entire time!” 

Seteth exhaled slowly. “I...see. Thank you for taking such precautions to ensure Flayn’s safety, but please do not place her in such a position again.” 

“I will do what I can to avoid such a thing,” Byleth nodded. 

Seteth raised an eyebrow, but he sighed and nodded as well. “Very well. It is clear to me that you have been making every effort to keep Flayn safe. Flayn...just please take care if you insist on escorting Sir Byleth around.” 

“I will, brother!” Flayn nodded, before tugging on Byleth’s arm. “Come! To the pond!” 

Byleth gave his sister a silent plead for aid as he was led away by the excitable fish-loving girl, and Beleth resisted the urge to snicker at his predicament. 

“I will keep an eye on him, do not worry!” Sothis declared as she trailed after them. “None shall lead my dear Byleth astray if I have anything to say about it!” 

Sothis, please do not kill that sweet girl. Seteth would likely have the twins executed on the spot if anything happened to her. 

Seteth sighed heavily and turned back to Beleth. “I’m not sure if you’ve been informed, but there is to be a mock battle in two days’ time in order to assess the students’ combat efficiency. You are free to use the time in between to familiarize yourself with your class and the material you are going to be covering. Pray do not waste any time in idleness.” 

“Of course,” Beleth bowed to the man. “Good day to you, Sir Seteth.” 

“Good day, Professor Eisner,” Seteth returned the bow and strode away only after shooting one last concerned glance in his sister’s direction. 

“Well, that was interesting,” Claude mused as soon as Seteth was gone. “So, Teach, what’s the plan? If you wanted to get a leg up over the other classes, I do have a little poison that I could-” 

Beleth snapped her head towards him with what she hoped was a disapproving glare. “Poison? I assume it’s only strong enough to make them sick, but poison?” 

Claude raised his hands in defense. “Hey, it’ll just make them a bit weak in the bowels like a stomach bug. It’d be easy to pass it off as just a sickness!” 

“Until the Church’s chirurgeons take a closer look and realize that nobody was sick to begin with until they ate, despite the food being well prepared,” Beleth pointed out. “And if someone heard that I allowed you to do this, then myself, my brother, and my father would likely be expelled from the monastery grounds.” 

“You don’t give me enough credit, Teach!” Claude feigned offense, but there was something in his eyes that spoke of a deeper familiarity with poison and the darker aspects of life as a noble. 

“You’ve done this before,” Beleth guessed. “Or you’ve had it done to you enough to where you had to become familiar with poisons in order to survive.” 

He faltered, his easygoing mask slipping just for a moment as his eyes widened in alarm. And then the mask was back as if it had never left, his impish smile returning in full force. 

“Well, Teach, life in the Alliance wasn’t always sunshine and roses. The lords and nobles are always looking to one up each other by any means possible,” Claude shrugged nonchalantly, but his expression was much more guarded than it had been before. “Got used to keeping daggers in my boots and what not, especially since I’m due to be the next Duke of the Roundtable.” 

There was more to that, much more, but Beleth had the feeling he wasn’t going to drop his guard and pour out his life’s story to her. No matter. 

“Understandable,” she nodded. “You had to do anything to survive, to win. Mercenary life is quite similar: If you try to play the honorable knight and expect your enemy to do the same, you’ll only end up with poison in your goblet or a knife in your back.” 

A hint of grudging, and cautious, respect flickered through Claude’s eyes. “Precisely. You gotta be willing to fight dirty if you want to survive.” 

“Claude, I do hope you aren’t attempting to encourage our Professor to sully herself with your schemes,” Dimitri emerged from the dining hall, his eyebrow raised and a disapproving expression crossing his face. 

“Hey, if these schemes save lives, I see no harm in them,” Claude shrugged. 

Dimitri turned his gaze to Beleth, concern and something darker lurking in those blue irises. “I understand that, but if they also cause needless harm to our classmates, then they must not be tolerated. Professor, do try to keep a tight rein on him.” 

“Hey, now!” Claude said in mock outrage, his impish grin never fading even as his cold gaze burned into Dimitri. “I might be a schemer, sure, but I don’t try to hide who I am behind a shiny chivalrous mask, hmm?” 

Dimitri’s expression hardened. “And what is it that you are implying, Claude?” 

Beleth frowned as her student leaned against the wall behind him, lazily tapping the discarded apple with his foot. 

“One hears rumors, Your Highness,” Claude said with a wave of his hand, a deadly light in his eyes as he stared at Dimitri. “Rumors of a vicious, bloodthirsty boar that lurks just beneath that golden, handsome exterior of yours.” 

Dimitri faltered, a slight blush coloring his cheeks at Claude’s barbed compliment. “I...take it you have been talking to Felix.” 

“We can worry about boars and whatnot later,” Beleth said coolly. “Claude, can you get your classmates and bring them to the training grounds? I’d like to take a measure of your abilities.” 

“Sure thing, Teach,” he nodded to her and then to Dimitri. “Your Princeliness.” 

The future Duke strode away, leaving his discarded apple where it had fallen as Dimitri sighed and shook his head. 

“Good luck with him, Professor,” the crown prince said grimly as he crouched and picked up the garbage. “I get the feeling you’re going to need it.” 

“You and me, both,” Beleth drawled. 

What the hell had she gotten herself into? 

Beleth strode over to where she’d been told the training grounds were, passing chattering students in black and gold, monks and priestesses in elegant white robes, and soldiers in shining white armor. 

The incessant clanking of her metal legs was her constant companion, but Quint had said that he couldn’t do anything to muffle the sound without risking damage to the internal parts. She would just have to deal with it and hope that the others in the monastery grew accustomed to the ungodly noise as well. 

Not that it didn’t give her a splitting headache... 

Two large doors opened the way to the training grounds, which was as basic as basic could get: rows of training dummies and targets; racks of wooden and blunted weapons; and a small rectangular arena of sorts where Beleth assumed students could spar. 

It was empty at the moment, save for a pair of knights who were examining some of the dummies for flaws or damage. They’d looked at Beleth as she’d entered, of course, but one look at the impassive mask of her face quickly made them avert their gazes. 

Why was it that nobody could see under that mask? Byleth and Sothis could, easily, but not even Father could see anything other than the face of a Demon on either of his children. 

And so she waited, tapping her fingers against the hilt of her heavy longsword while murmuring the incantations for her magic under her breath. Two small nearby crates lifted a few inches off of the ground at her words, but the knights either didn’t notice or were too scared of her to say anything. 

Excited chattering and a plethora of footfalls turned her attention to the entrance, where Claude and his seven classmates were entering the grounds. 

“Hey, Teach! I managed to round everyone up!” he waved. 

Was that Raphael boy still shoving meat into his mouth? 

“Good,” Beleth looked over the children-what else could she call them? They were young adults, sure, but... “Now, arm yourselves with your preferred weapons and pick a dummy. I want to gauge your capabilities.” 

The students hurried to choose weapons from the racks, save for Lysithea and Marianne. The former strode confidently before a dummy while the latter shuffled forward, her head down as she glanced back and forth at the people moving around her. 

Mages, maybe? They did look rather frail. 

“Say, Professor, I’m not the strongest fighter, so maybe I could-” 

Claude had warned her that Hilda would be...lazy and attempt to shirk her duties. 

“Pick. A. Weapon,” Beleth ordered, giving the pink-haired girl a glare. “I feel that you are stronger than you think.” 

Hilda flinched, her eyes widening. Then she ran over to the rack, grabbed a training axe, and planted herself before a dummy. 

Once they were all situated with their chosen arms, Beleth strode over to who was first in the class: Lorenz. 

“Show me what you can do,” she ordered, gesturing at his dummy. 

Lorenz nodded. “Certainly, Professor! You will see what the scion of House Gloucester is capable of!” 

He then lunged and jabbed his lance into the dummy’s gut, the dull impact jarring his arms despite his less-than-optimal form. 

“How was that?” Lorenz turned, chest puffed out and head held high as he eagerly anticipated the accolades she would reward him. 

“Sloppy,” Beleth deflated him without hesitation. 

Lysithea and Leonie snickered behind her, and Beleth gave them a warning side-eye that shut both girls up. 

“B-but...I have been trained in-” Lorenz faltered when Beleth lifted a hand to silence him. 

“Trained, I can believe,” she said coolly. “Drilled? No. You’ve been taught the forms or at least studied them, but you haven’t conditioned your body to endure the strain. You have potential, nonetheless.” 

Lorenz took her offered olive branch and nodded, salvaging what was left of his pride. “Thank you, Professor. I will give my utmost to transform myself into a man deserving of my title!” 

Nobles...all you had to do was find a way to stoke their pride while slipping in critiques here and there. Too much flattery and they’d never improve, and the same with critiques. 

“Raphael, you’re next,” she said. 

“On it!” he clenched a pair of training gauntlets, little more than wooden tonfa, and wailed on his dummy, the blow sending straw flying. 

“Strong but not quite refined,” Beleth noted. The dummy’s wooden stake cracked and fell over with a thud. “Very strong. If you can hone that strength, you will go far.” 

Raphael grinned brightly. “Aw, thanks, Professor!” 

“Ignatz,” Beleth nodded to the boy, who yelped and nearly dropped his arrow. 

He nocked the wooden projectile, pulled back with painstaking hesitation, then loosed it at his target. It hit the dummy in the chest, but the wooden projectile merely bounced off and clacked against the floor. 

He was small, scrawny, and filled with fear. This one would be a challenge, for certain, but Beleth had hopes for him. 

“You will need much training to mold both your body and your heart,” she said. “I think you’re up for it.” 

“Y-you really think so?” his eyes gleamed as he gave a hesitant smile. “Thank you, Professor!” 

“I’m next, eh? Let me show you what Jeralt taught me!” Leonie declared, charging her dummy and unleashing a flurry of quick thrusts. 

“You’ve clearly put some effort into your training,” Beleth mused. “I can certainly see my father’s influence in your footwork and thrusting. Continue honing your style but don’t be afraid to branch out.” 

Leonie pumped a fist triumphantly. 

“Lysithea,” Beleth nodded to the small girl, already deciding that she would need to work on her physical training. 

She nodded and turned to her target, lifting a hand and chanting. Dark energies crackled around her, and Beleth watched with interest as a purple-black orb was expelled from her outstretched fingers. The spell hit and exploded, splintering the dummy like it was nothing. 

“Impressive,” Beleth eyed the girl with new respect. “I’ve never seen anyone whose magic is that potent at such a young age. I can only imagine how much work you’ve put into honing it.” 

Lysithea’s expression changed from a cautious frown to a cautious smile, but there was a small amount of pride shimmering in her unusual violet eyes. “I’ll work harder than anyone else, I promise you that.” 

“Marianne, you’re up,” Beleth instructed. 

Marianne stammered through her incantations and loosed a weak bolt of White magic at her dummy, hitting its arm and bouncing off. 

“O-oh...” she murmured, shaking her head. “I...” 

Beleth strode down the line and patted her shoulder in the way she’d seen Jeralt do whenever someone in the company was upset. “It’s okay, Marianne. You just need to practice and build up that self-confidence of yours.” 

And maybe get some more sleep? Those shadows around the girl’s eyes did not look healthy. 

“Hil-” 

Hilda’s dummy almost evaporated under her axe swing, wood and straw flying in a burst of light as a strange symbol flared to life over the pink-haired girl. 

“Uh...oops?” she stammered, moving the axe behind her back and placing an innocent smile on her lips. 

“Remember when I said you were stronger than you looked?” Beleth mused, and Hilda sighed. 

“Just don’t expect too much, alright?” the girl muttered softly. 

“I’ll temper my expectations,” Beleth responded. 

Again, it was a delicate balance of yielding and standing firm, or so Jeralt had said numerous times. It seemed to be working so far? 

“Alright, last but not least,” Claude chuckled, spinning an arrow in his hand before nocking it with practiced ease and pulling back on the bowstring. 

The difference between him and Ignatz was immediately noted: his posture was straight and firm, his powerful arms holding the arrow steady as he looked down the shaft and took aim. He was an expert at handling this weapon, unlike his classmate. 

He’d commented on how secrets were his weakness, but how many was he hiding, himself? 

She watched as he aimed, going right for a kill shot, and then he adjusted. When he finally loosed after what felt like an eternity, his arrow thunked into the dummy’s arm. 

“Drat! I was a little too wound up, it would seem,” Claude sighed, but Beleth saw right through him. 

Experience didn’t lie, no matter how much you tried to hide it. 

Beleth wanted to comment on his purposeful miss, and she raised an eyebrow as his secretive green eyes met hers. He hesitated, just for a moment, the fear in those irises making Beleth stay her tongue. 

“Keep practicing, work on your form and familiarize yourself with the weapon,” she said, instead. “You’ve clearly hunted in the past, but humans are harder targets than beasts.” 

Relief and gratitude flickered in Claude’s gaze before his mask slipped back into place. 

“Yeah, no kidding, Teach,” he sighed. “So, what do you think of the Golden Deer?” 

“You all have potential,” Beleth let her gaze roam over the students- _her students_ – and took a moment to wonder just how she had gotten into this. “But potential must be honed through relentless training and drilling. I am going to forge you into professionals, one way or another.” 

They were listening with rapt attention, their eyes boring into her and almost making her stumble over her words. 

Stop staring so intently, damn you! 

“You will get no favoritism from me, or special treatment because of your status,” she gave Lorenz a pointed look to get her point across. “Noble or commoner or future duke: I will train you in the way of battle like any mercenary would be.” 

“I hope you do not plan to neglect our studies,” Lysithea said coolly. 

“I do not intend to do as such,” Beleth assured her. “I will immediately start going over the academic material so I can familiarize myself with it.” 

“With her incredible memory, I’m sure our studies will be taken care of,” Ignatz added, his smile lighting up his youthful face. 

“Just don’t work me too hard, okay?” Hilda asked, but she was smiling. 

“Let’s do this, Professor! I’m ready to show you what I’m made of!” Leonie grinned, holding her fist up. 

Raphael mimicked her. “I’m ready, Professor! Say, do you think we could get some food now?” 

“I-I hope I don’t cause more trouble than I’m worth...” Marianne whispered, her voice almost too quiet to hear. 

Claude bumped her with his shoulder, making her yelp. “Hey, now! No need for that, Marianne! Teach, here, is going to lead us to greatness!” 

Beleth swallowed at his certainty, silently hoping that she lived up to his expectations. 

“Now, stand across from the dummies again! Raphael, Lysithea: pick new ones!” she ordered, delving into her memories of the drills that the Blade Breaker Company had performed and analyzing how she could replicate them with these students. “We have a mock battle to prepare for.” 

“Yes, Professor Beleth!” came the chorus from her class. 

It was time to begin forging these students into soldiers. 


	5. Mock Battle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to do something different with the mock battle, so feel free to leave your thoughts on everything! I hope I'm staying true to everyone's characters, too.

Their chosen battlefield was a forested glen outside of the town’s walls, presenting all on the field with a distant view of the monastery’s towering steeples on the cliffs lording over the trees. 

It looked beautiful and imposing at the same time, projecting power while keeping its history and many secrets safely nestled out of sight within. 

“Alright, Teach, what’s the plan?” Claude looked over at his professor, once again wary of how easily she seemed to see right through him. 

She knew he was holding back in the training grounds; he could feel her dark eyes boring holes into him whenever he faked a miss against the pathetically easy targets. 

“It’s like she’s looking into our souls or something,” Hilda had commented yesterday after several hours of arduous and unforgiving drills. 

_Yeah, that was probably the right of it, Hild. Looking right through our souls to everything we try to bury beneath._

Claude hated to admit it, but he was terrified of how easily this near-stranger could pierce his defenses. She hadn’t outed him to everyone else, thank whatever gods and goddesses were looking out for him, but how long would it take before she did? Maybe he could strike a deal with her? 

On the other hand, Beleth had, so far, kept up her promise to train the class as a mercenary would, and Claude’s body was still aching from the sheer harshness of the nonstop drills and exercises. She certainly wasn’t going easy on them and didn’t seem like the type of person to accept a deal with someone she might view as being under her thumb. 

“Our objective is to be the last class standing, and it would be foolhardy to charge down that middle,” Beleth deadpanned, her doll-like face frustratingly devoid of emotion or tells as she pointed at the path that split the forest and separated the other two classes. “We move around and take them out one at a time.” 

“Well, we could even the odds a bit,” Claude mused, earning a raised eyebrow from his professor. It made a shiver go up his spine. “Not poison, Teach. I’m saying we try to bait the other two classes to fight each other.” 

“How do we do that?” Ignatz frowned. 

“Think: who would be more likely to disobey their orders and charge in like an idiot?” Claude asked. 

Lysithea and Leonie both looked at Lorenz. 

“Oh! Ferdinand!” Hilda snapped her fingers. “He thinks Edelgard is his rival, doesn’t he?” 

“Bingo!” Claude nodded. “The Blue Lions are pretty close-knit, from what I’ve seen, so if we could get Ferdinand to break ranks and attack them, we could skirt the worst of the fighting while they’re brawling with each other.” 

“Good plan,” Beleth mused. “How would you go about doing that?” 

A trumpet blared from where Captain Jeralt and Seteth were refereeing the battle, and Claude glanced over to see that...what the hells? Byleth was standing next to the two older men, a very pleased-looking Flayn seated on his wide shoulders. 

How did they convince Seteth, who was quickly becoming notorious for his absurd overprotectiveness regarding his sister, to allow that? 

“Looks like we’re out of time,” Beleth mused, drawing her blunted training blade. “Raphael, Hilda, and Leonie with me. Claude and Ignatz will take the back with Lysithea and Marianne. Lorenz, you watch the flanks and make sure we don’t get ambushed.” 

Claude shuffled into place next to Ignatz while the rest of the class eased themselves into formation, Hilda inhaling as if to ply another attempt of a complaint at their stone-faced professor. Wisely, the girl changed her mind and closed her mouth. 

Tough luck, Hilda. 

“Where to?” Claude asked, right as the telltale twang of a bow and the hissing of an arrow reached his ears. 

The shot sailed from the forest to the west, where the Blue Lions were camped, and missed entirely. 

A distraction, then, or bait. 

“Ashe,” Beleth murmured. “Archer. Bait. We move east, towards the Eagles.” 

The class chorused their affirmation and trailed alongside their professor as she jogged noisily towards the glen’s eastern side. Claude kept scanning the trees and the ground, itself, looking for even the tiniest indications that something had been laid in their path, but the incessant noise blaring from Teach’s metal legs made it difficult to focus. 

Petra was a skilled hunter, after all, and Claude wouldn’t put it past her to set up some snares or pitfalls. She and maybe the Imperial princess, herself, would be the greatest threats here. 

“I have no need of your direction, Edelgard!” came the expected distant shout from one Ferdinand von Aegir. “I will defeat our enemies and show you what a true noble is capable of!” 

“Ferdinand!” Edelgard’s exasperated reply was followed by someone crashing through the undergrowth. “Ugh, why do I even bother with him?” 

At least Ferdinand was heading towards the Lions, from the sound of it. Maybe this plan to make the two groups fight each other was going to work out better than expected. 

Beleth led the group through another path that swung around the Eagles’ position, which allowed Claude the occasional glimpse of his opposing classmates through the trees. 

They were arrayed rather loosely, save for the absent Ferdinand, and Claude silently willed the Blue Lions to charge in from the flank. 

“The Deer are coming towards us,” Petra warned, her finger pointing at the group. “I will be fighting them with all my strength!” 

Ack, leave it to the hunter-princess to find them out first. Well, not that they could have gone unnoticed for long: Beleth’s legs were clanking up a bloody storm. 

“Defensive positions!” Edelgard yelled. “Dorothea, Hubert: start laying down fire! Bernadetta, I- wha? Where did Bernadetta go?!” 

Edelgard looked around in confusion for a moment, then sighed, shook her head, and took her axe into her hand. Dorothea and Hubert lifted their hands and chanted, throwing bolts of darkness and fire. 

“Lysithea!” Beleth ordered. 

“On it!” Lysithea retaliated with a singular bolt of her own, which collided against Hubert’s and exploded, whereas Dorothea’s firebolt sailed wide before splattering against a tree, thankfully not causing a forest fire in the meantime. 

Claude nocked an arrow and fired at Hubert, nailing him in the shoulder and sending him spinning to the ground. 

“I will defeat you!” Petra and Caspar lunged in unison at the Golden Deer, with Caspar bellowing a deafening battle cry. 

“Raphael! Leonie!” 

“On it!” 

“You can count on me!” 

Raphael intercepted Caspar in a flurry of blows, the smaller Eagle taking a vicious punch to his face and staggering backwards. Leonie jabbed at Petra, but the foreign princess easily slipped by the attack and retaliated with a speedy slash. 

“Focus,” Beleth’s sharp order drew Claude’s attention to where Dorothea was drawing a bead on the Deer. 

He reached for another arrow to silence her, but she lobbed a bolt of lightning at Marianne. 

“Marianne!” Lorenz, of all people, leaped in the way and took the blinding bolt to his chest. 

“Good on you, Lorenz! Very noble!” Claude chimed as he pegged Dorothea’s gut with an arrow. 

“Oh, be quiet, Claude!” Lorenz groaned as he clutched at his smoking, blackened rose. “I didn’t see you attempting to shield our comrades!” 

Beleth chanted behind them, followed by Edelgard’s surprised shriek. Claude spun and froze at the sight of the Imperial princess floating above him, her axe inches away from his head. 

“Pay attention or you will die,” Beleth’s voice was firm and without mercy, and Claude looked over at those eyes that could see through every mask he wore. 

Embarrassment and a bit of shame-why had he let his guard down?!- flickered through him. “Heh, sorry, Teach. I guess I got a little too into teasing Lorenz, here.” 

And Edelgard had moved far faster than he’d anticipated. She was full of surprises! 

“Put me down!” Edelgard demanded from overhead, but Claude had to give her credit for how hard she was trying to hit him with that axe of hers despite being in Teach’s grasp. 

Beleth complied, lowering her magically-lit hand and dropping Edelgard bodily onto the dirt before tapping the princess’s chest with her sword. The princess picked herself up and huffed with annoyance as she brushed off her clothes. 

“You are perceptive, my teacher,” Edelgard sighed, giving Beleth an approving look over. “I thought my feint towards Marianne would have distracted you from my true target.” 

Beleth’s face remained impassive as she took in the dwindling brawls. “I’ve seen it before, many times.” 

Raphael and Caspar had, somehow, managed to knock each other out of the fight and were currently standing alongside the rest of the defeated Black Eagles, laughing as they chattered about their brawl. Leonie had defeated Petra and quickly took Linhardt out as well, although it appeared all she did was threaten him with his lance and he surrendered. Hanneman was standing with his class, rubbing his abdomen and studying Beleth with great intensity. 

“Reform ranks, whoever’s left!” Beleth commanded. “The Lions will be here soon!” 

The Golden Deer closed together, and just in time, too: Claude could hear the Blue Lions crashing through the growth towards them. 

“Let’s show them the might of Faerghus!” someone, probably Dimitri or Ingrid, yelled as the third class exploded into the clearing. 

Ashe was nowhere to be found, and neither was Ferdinand, but the ‘noblest of nobles’ was most likely nursing a few bruises along with an equally battered pride. Maybe he’d managed to slow the Lions down a bit? 

“Claude and Ignatz: focus fire on Mercedes and Annette,” Beleth ordered. “Lysithea, take out Dedue!” 

She’d been busy, it would seem, learning the names of all the students here and preparing a strategy. 

Ignatz stammered and fired at Mercedes, but his shot went wide and bounced off a tree. Claude made no such blunder: he nocked, pulled back, and sent his shot right into Annette’s shoulder as she tried to cast a wind-based spell. 

She yelped and tripped over a root, the crash of her face against the ground making Claude wince even as he lined up another shot with Sylvain as his target. 

Lysithea’s towering giant of a target ducked beneath her first spell and lunged at the small mage, with Dimitri covering his flank while Felix went right for the professor. 

“I don’t think so!” Leonie tried to get under Dedue’s guard, only for Ingrid to intercede and nearly knock her flat with the haft of her lance. 

Jeralt’s former apprentice leaped back with surprising agility, but she was now trying to fend off both Ingrid and Dimitri as they bore down upon her. Claude quickly loosed his arrow at Sylvain, hearing him cry out in pain, and then spun to support his classmate, aiming at Dimitri’s back. 

“Okay...okay, I can do this,” Ignatz was murmuring as he pulled back on his bow again. 

Then a stream of rather colorful cursing reached the ears of everyone present, heads swiveling to the source as said source flailed wildly in his magically-aided descent towards his two friends. 

“Felix! Watch your language!” Ingrid spun, completely ignoring her stunned target before her own jaw dropped. “Wha-” 

Claude fought the laugh that threatened to bubble out as Felix Hugo Fraldarius crashed head-first into Ingrid, the duo crumpling in a blue-blooded tangle of limbs and wooden weapons. 

“Felix! Ingrid!” Mercedes cried, only to yelp as Ignatz finally found his mark. 

Good shot, buddy! 

“Your Highness!” Dedue tried to swat Lysithea aside with his broad axe, but Hilda intercepted him and caught him across the chest with her own weapon, yelping as he caught her on the arm. 

The Deer’s little powerhouse then blasted the Duscur giant with one last spell and sent him stumbling into a tree, tongues of smoke curling upwards from his scorched uniform. Marianne was immediately at Hilda’s side, sending gentle waves of white magic into her injured arm. 

Dimitri, on the other hand, swept Leonie onto the ground with a swing of his lance before spinning to face Beleth as she approached him. Claude glanced around to ensure that nobody else was about to launch a surprise attack before circling around to get Dimitri in his sights. 

The prince was wiser than he appeared, at least a bit, as he moved with Claude in order to keep Beleth in between them. 

“Hey, Dimitri, you have a thing for Edelgard, right?” Claude knew that she could hear every word he was saying. “Come on, fess up! You’ll feel better!” 

Dimitri paused and glanced at where the princess was giving Claude the stink eye. “It is not like that, Claude. Wait, are you trying to distract me?” 

Claude fired his arrow at Dimitri’s broad chest at the same time that Beleth leaped at the man, metal leg swinging in front of her. 

Dimitri’s eyes widened and he swung his lance like a club as his Crest flared above his arms, Claude’s heart skipping a beat as the prince _knocked his arrow out of the air_ before slamming his weapon into Beleth’s outstretched right leg in the course of the same swing. 

A loud CLANG reverberated throughout the clearing, followed by the sound of metal tearing. 

“Holy shit,” Caspar spoke what everybody was thinking as Dimitri’s panicked and incredibly gods-damned lucky swing sent what was left of Beleth’s leg bouncing against the ground while the newest professor slammed onto the earth at the prince’s feet. 

“P-Professor!” Dimitri yelped, his face the perfect picture of shock, horror, and sheer embarrassment as he dropped his now-broken lance. “Oh, goddess, I am so sor-” 

Beleth suddenly shot upwards on a shimmer of pale magic, her shoulder ramming into Dimitri’s chin and knocking the boy flat onto his back. 

“Do not hesitate against a downed opponent, even in training,” was all her monotone voice said as she levitated before the stunned prince, the jagged stump of metal that was her right leg sparking. “Always make sure they’re unable to fight back before turning away from them.” 

“Your legs are fake?” Manuela’s voice rang out, making every single gaze in the clearing fall on her as she stared, dumbfounded, at the jagged metal limb that lay near her. “Good goddess, Professor, that gave me a heart attack! I thought Dimitri had quite literally smashed your leg into two pieces!” 

Claude resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose: how the hell did she not hear about the twins’ metal limbs? They were all the students had been talking about, lately! 

“Manuela, how were you not aware of that?” Hanneman gave voice to Claude’s thoughts from the sidelines. “I would assume that it is common knowledge at this point, given that Miss Eisner and her brother have been here for three days!” 

Manuela whirled on her rival, fire blazing in her eyes as she clenched her fists at her side. “Oh, be quiet, you old coot! Am I supposed to be aware of every little going-on in the monastery?! I’ve been busy!” 

“Busy being intoxicated, I’m sure,” came the other professor’s huff. “Honestly, Manuela...” 

Claude heard Beleth chanting again and frowned as he glimpsed the fallen metal leg rising from the ground. 

“Uh, Professor Manuela?” Sylvain asked. 

“What?!’ the former songstress stopped arguing with Hanneman and turned her gaze to her student, only for Beleth’s dismembered leg to slam into the side of her head with a loud clang. “Ow!” 

Woman and fake leg hit the ground and tumbled, the latter clanking loudly and spitting sparks as it bounced twice before rolling to a stop. Manuela groaned but did not rise, her hair mussed and her clothes covered in dirt. 

“Anything can be a weapon, students, and use everything you can to win, especially if it is unconventional,” Beleth commented. “And with that, we have won.” 

Her simple declaration was followed by a trumpet fanfare from the cliffs. 

“The mock battle is finished!” Jeralt’s gruff voice declared, the Blade Breaker sounding like he was trying not to laugh. “The Golden Deer have won!” 

“Hmm, it appears Ferdinand actually did manage to defeat Ashe,” Claude mused as he caught sight of the noblest of nobles speaking to the bruised archer. 

“You fought well, but everyone was making too many mistakes,” Beleth intoned as she looked over her class. “That is expected, however, for your first taste of battle.” 

“We won because of you, Teach,” Claude didn’t want to pretend otherwise, not after she saved his hide from Edelgard. “Your leadership was impressive.” 

“Yeah! Your magic was awesome, too!” Raphael agreed as the Golden Deer gathered around their new professor. 

“I’m a little disappointed, truth be told,” Leonie spoke up, drawing everyone’s attention. 

“Disappointed?” Hilda repeated. “Why? Professor Beleth was absolutely incredible! Did you not see how she defeated Hanneman with one strike?” 

Leonie nodded. “Yes, but I admit I was expecting...more from Jeralt’s daughter. I mean, she’s called a Demon for a reason, isn’t she?” 

Claude shook his head and clucked his tongue in mock disapproval. “Leonie, Leonie, Leonie. This mock battle was to test _our_ combat capabilities, not Teach’s. Why else do you think she was holding back and letting us do most of the fighting?” 

Teach probably could have won this entire fight alone if she really wanted to. 

“Claude is correct,” Beleth spoke, and Claude could have sworn he sensed a hint of approval in her monotone voice. “I held back to gauge your own combat efficiency. It wouldn’t have been fair for me to go all out against students with minimal experience on the battlefield.” 

“That...makes sense,” Leonie admitted, rubbing the back of her head. “Sorry, Professor.” 

“I, for one, am quite impressed with our professor’s ability to lead,” Lysithea nodded with a pleased expression on her childish face. 

Beleth reached out and pat Lysithea’s shoulder, but it wasn’t a comforting or consoling gesture like whenever she was working with Marianne or Ignatz. “Your magic was quite impressive as well, Lysithea. I look forward to helping you hone your skills further.” 

Pride was practically oozing from the young Ordelia heiress as she beamed at Beleth. 

“I’m sorry,” Marianne murmured. “I don’t think I was helping at all...” 

This girl really needed a confidence boost, that was for sure. Even Claude was starting to be affected by the gloomy air about her, but at least she was talking a bit more! 

Progress! 

“Marianne, you did everything you needed to!” Hilda insisted as she bumped the other girl with her shoulder. “You healed me up after that fight with Dedue, so I gotta pay you back for that! How about some makeup tips? We could try to cover up those circles under your eyes and really make your beauty glow!” 

Marianne blanched. “I...” 

“All of you did as well as you could,” Beleth surveyed them yet again, her cool eyes boring into everyone and making a shudder electrify Claude’s spine. “I plan to help you grow even stronger.” 

“Oh, yeah! My muscles are gonna be huge!” Raphael laughed, flexing his already gigantic muscles. 

“If those things get any bigger, I’m afraid you’re going to explode,” Lysithea muttered, but Raphael didn’t seem to hear her. 

“I will do all I can to make myself a worthy leader of the Alliance!” Lorenz declared, puffing out his scrawny chest. 

His determination was almost adorable, but Claude’s breath caught in his throat as Beleth’s eyes pierced his own, boring into the very depths of his soul and reaching for the secrets he carefully sealed away inside of himself. 

Claude coughed and tore his gaze away, denying her probing grasp before she could suss out something she really shouldn’t. 

“Not bad, kid, not bad,” Jeralt, himself, strode up the class, his grizzled face alight with no small amount of pride. “You handled yourself well with these brats.” 

“Hey!” Lysithea bristled at his insult, but the Blade Breaker ignored her. 

“Captain Jeralt!” Leonie approached her idol, but he ignored her in favor of his still-levitating daughter as she examined the two broken halves of her metal leg. 

“Quint’s not going to be happy with this,” she commented. “I’d heard of Dimitri’s absurd strength, but I wasn’t expecting that.” 

“I’ll say,” Jeralt muttered. “I’ve never seen someone break one of Quint’s works like that, and with the wooden haft of a training lance.” 

“Professor. Sir Jeralt,” Dimitri strode over to them, a nasty bruise forming on his chin and lower mouth. “I am so sorry for what happened. I had no idea my Crest was going to activate like that. Would you like some assistance getting back to the monastery?” 

“I’ve had worse,” Beleth shrugged, her face impassive but a bit paler as she shook her head. “No need, Dimitri.” 

“I got her,” Jeralt grunted, taking a deep swig of his flask before hooking it to his belt. “Let’s go, kid.” 

He never seemed to be without that thing. 

Jeralt then scooped his daughter into his powerful arms as if she weighed nothing, her broken leg hovering after them as he carried her away. 

“Nicely done, Prince!” Claude said cheerily as he clapped Dimitri’s broad shoulder. “That was honestly quite impressive.” 

Dimitri sighed and shook his head. “I just swung on instinct...to think that my lance somehow broke her leg like that.” 

“You still don’t know your own strength, boar,” Felix grumbled from nearby, also sporting a nasty-looking bruise on his face. 

“Enough, Felix,” Ingrid sighed wearily at his side, rubbing her own bruised head. “I just want to get back and eat...” 

“Me too!” Raphael chortled. “I heard the cafeteria’s serving some delicious stir fry today!” 

“Aw, yeah! I can’t wait!” Caspar joined in, the eyes of the three foodies practically gleaming while their classmates sighed. 

Claude didn’t take part in the cheerful conversations that followed, choosing to watch Jeralt and his unusual daughter walk towards a contingent of knights while the broken leg continued trailing behind them. 

Byleth was waiting for his father and sister, his arms combined into two gleaming metal limbs and his shoulders noticeably vacant. The three mercenaries strode away together, taking their tantalizing secrets and mysteries with them. 

Claude would figure them out even if it killed him. Well...maybe not kill him. He still had great dreams to bring about, and part of him was slowly beginning to add his new professor into the equations. 

Maybe Beleth would be able to help him? Claude found himself really hoping that she would. 

Well, first, he would really have to work his magic on her to ease into her good graces! 


	6. Memories

“Well, Belle, what do you think of the brats?” Jeralt asked as he watched Quint work on her leg. “They seemed to hold their own in the fight.” 

They were sitting on a cushy couch in the captain’s office while Quint knelt before Beleth, metal rattling and clinking with each move he made. 

“Brats, indeed,” Quint growled, his muscular form hunched over while he moved one of his tools through the inner workings of his subject. “How the hell did that noble bastard rip off your leg with a training lance?” 

Thankfully, the old blacksmith wasn’t wont to raise his voice much whenever he was deeply invested in his work. Unless he was already yelling at them over something. 

“His Crest,” Jeralt answered with a sigh. “Kid’s got Blaiddyd blood in him, and the ridiculous strength that comes with it.” 

Quint snorted, and something sparked in Beleth’s leg. “Bah! The bastard shredded the wiring! It’s going to take forever to rip out what’s damaged!” 

“Father, what are Crests?” Byleth was leaning against the wall, and Beleth saw Sothis sleeping as she levitated next to him. 

Jeralt fidgeted, discomfort and distaste etched across his grizzled features. “The Church says Crests are blessings from the Goddess, inherited through the bloodline of the old Ten Elites. They are, more or less, power. Sometimes they boost physical power, sometimes they boost magical energy or conserve it. Each Crest is unique in some form.” 

“Like Hilda,” Beleth recalled. “Her Crest amplifies her physical strength.” 

“That Goneril girl?” Jeralt guessed, rubbing his beard. “I remember hearing about her brother, Holst...” 

“Do we have a Crest?” Byleth wondered. 

Jeralt fidgeted and scowled, clearly not wanting to talk about this subject any further, which was evident by his finger twitching around his flask. “I... don’t think so. We aren’t descended from the Ten Elites, so there’s no reason for us to have one of their Crests.” 

“Don’t put much stock in those blasted things, anyway,” Quint grumbled, metal squeaking as he twisted one of his strange tools inside of Beleth’s leg. “Crests are more trouble than they’re worth.” 

“Why do you say that?” Byleth asked. “Increased power would be a good thing, right?” 

“Sure, if you wanted to be the object of obsession for every damn noble house in Fodlan,” Jeralt spoke up. “The Kingdom has the worst ones, by far, but still.” 

“So, these Crests are highly desirable, I take it,” Beleth murmured, filing that information away. 

“That’s putting it lightly,” Quint grunted. “Some of these noble houses treat their children like they’re animals to be bred until a brat with a Crest pops out. They’re obsessed with the fucking things.” 

“Take the Gautier family, for one,” Jeralt unhooked his flask and took a deep flask of the whisky he was wont to store within it. “Disinherited their eldest son just because the younger was born with a Crest. I heard a story that the elder threw the younger down a well, once, trying to drown the poor kid.” 

“My goodness! I did not think people would be so cruel!” Sothis was awake, her green eyes bright with shock. “Especially children!” 

“Sothis, you’ve literally watched us cut people apart,” Byleth grunted next to her, making Jeralt flinch. 

“What’s wrong, Father?” Beleth asked, a tremor going up her body as the core in her leg made a whining sound. 

He took another drink from his flask and grimaced. “I would be careful about using her name around here, kid. It...has a lot of meaning for the Church.” 

“Do I?” Sothis frowned, tapping the side of her head as if trying to jar her memories loose. “I cannot recall at all! You will answer me, Mr. Jeralt: what am I to this strange Church?” 

“She wants to know what she is to this strange Church,” Byleth translated, making Sothis beam at him. 

Jeralt sighed. “What’d she call me this time?” 

“Mr. Jeralt,” Beleth reported. 

Their father chuckled. “Well, she’s called me worse. I’ll tell you, but not here, alright?” 

“You will tell me all you know right this moment!” Sothis demanded, yelping as she unintentionally kicked one of Quint’s tools. 

It tipped over with a loud thud against the floor, making Quint jump and swear as he jerked his hand out of Beleth’s leg. Sparking black wires were gripped in his fingers, and he grumbled before throwing them aside. 

“Damn it! Who did that?!” he demanded, looking around in annoyance. “Your ghost?” 

The twins nodded, making the old smith grumble again before he went back to working on Beleth’s leg. 

“Well, kid, back to my original question,” Jeralt took another swallow from his flask before fixing a calculating stare upon his daughter. “What do you think of your brats?” 

“They have promise, but they have far to go,” Beleth hesitated as she considered the mystery that was her House Head. “Although...Claude is hiding much.” 

“The Almyran?” Jeralt grunted. 

“Almyran?” Beleth frowned. 

Her father nodded. “You didn’t notice? Kid’s obviously not from Fodlan: I can hear a faint accent in his voice, but he’s pretty good at hiding it from what I can tell.” 

“I didn’t. Why would an Almyran be here in Fodlan?” Beleth wondered. 

“That’s his business, but he’s doing a good job fitting in,” Jeralt shrugged. “You’ve seen firsthand how Fodlan natives dislike foreigners, after all.” 

Right...Beleth recalled seeing merchants from Dagda and Almyra endure no small amount of prejudice and abuse from their rivals and prospective customers. The Kingdom was especially leery of foreigners after that whole Duscur debacle. 

“A fair point,” Beleth nodded, her leg whirring as Quint tweaked something in the mechanism. 

“People are people,” Byleth said from the side, ignoring how Sothis was dramatically draping herself across his shoulders as she sighed. “Doesn’t matter where they’re from.” 

“We’ve probably killed people from all over the world,” Jeralt muttered. “I know I’ve killed enough to fill an entire country.” 

“Can you pipe down?” Quint growled, and Beleth felt the metal connectors that fused her stumps to the false legs tighten. “There we go! The damn things were loose, go figure. Give that a go.” 

She slowly swung the leg before her, the metal limb a bit more responsive than it had been earlier. “Feels good, Quint.” 

“How do your arms feel, Byleth?” the smith turned to the other man, eyeing his metal limbs. “That girl sitting on your shoulders didn’t throw them out of alignment, did she?” 

“Not that I can tell,” Byleth shook his head and rolled his shoulders. “Everything is working.” 

“I thought Seteth was going to have a hemorrhage when you offered to let Flayn sit on your shoulders after she complained she couldn’t see,” Jeralt chuckled. “Was kinda nice seeing him squirm.” 

“What do you think I should do about Claude?” Beleth asked, and her father’s face soured. “I have noticed that he is hiding much, including his skill with bows and poisons.” 

“Keep an eye on him and act if you need to. Your instincts have never led you wrong yet,” Jeralt shrugged. 

“Aside from...this,” Beleth gestured at her legs. 

“This again? You can’t blame yourself for that, Belle,” her father reached out and placed a heavy hand on her shoulder. “Remember what that monk said? If you hadn’t been where you were, Byleth would have lost his entire head instead of just his eyes and arms. He’s alive because of you.” 

“I owe you my life, sister,” Byleth nodded. 

She hated those words, but he was alive. That was all that mattered. 

Jeralt withdrew his hand and sighed, rubbing his eyes. “You should get back to your brats. I’m sure they’re waiting for their new professor. Just do what you do best and use your head.” 

“Yes, father,” Beleth nodded. 

Right, use her head. She had to put this impeccable memory of hers to good use, after all. 

“Be careful in the future, aye?” Quint gathered up his supplies in their black metal case, giving Beleth a firm nod. “And if that Blaiddyd brat breaks either of you again, I will flay him alive.” 

“I didn’t think you cared about them, Quint,” Jeralt drawled, but his grizzled face was lit up with a grin. 

Quint just grunted and stomped out of the room, waving a callused hand in dismissal before he left their sight. 

“He cares more than you think, kids,” Jeralt mused. “Took him a while, but he came around.” 

“I remember how cold and distant he used to be, only interacting with us when we needed repairs or tune-ups,” Beleth said softly as the memories surfaced. 

“What do we do, now?” Byleth asked. 

“You’re needed in the warehouses to move some supplies of raw materials,” Jeralt said to him. “Seteth told me as such, earlier.” 

“Then I shall guide him to the best of my ability!” Sothis declared, silently jumping to her feet. “You shall not lose your way so long as I am here!” 

“I trust you, Sothie,” Byleth nodded sagely, missing her annoyed glare at the nickname. “Thank you.” 

She huffed. “At least you can show gratitude. No matter: you know I adore you two, and I take my responsibilities quite seriously!” 

Beleth would have smiled if she could move her facial muscles. 

“We know you do,” she said, instead. 

Sothis stuck her tongue out at her and then placed her hand on Byleth’s back. 

Byleth and the ephemeral girl strode out of the room, leaving Beleth with Jeralt. 

“Good luck, Belle,” her father said. “If you need help with anything, I’m sure the other professors will be willing to lend you their expertise.” 

Right...Manuela and Hanneman. Hopefully their teaching skills were more refined than their battlefield abilities. 

“What will you be doing?” she asked. 

Jeralt looked back at his desk, which had a small tower of papers cluttered upon it, then lifted his flask to take a swig of its alcoholic contents. “Remembering how much I hate paperwork.” 

Ah, yes, the bane of the Blade Breaker’s existence: paper. 

“Maybe after our duties are done, we could go fishing for a time?” Beleth mused, at which her father’s grizzled features softened. 

“I’d like that, kid. Now scram: we both have duties to fulfil.” 

“Yes, father,” Beleth left the room on her new leg, balancing easily on the prosthetic. 

How many times had this happened since the accident? Five, if her memory was correct, and it usually was. 

“Now, Hanneman’s and Manuela’s offices are right across from one another, aren’t they?” Beleth strode down the hall to her left, finding that her hunch was correct. 

To her left was the infirmary that doubled as Manuela’s office, and the former songstress was slumped over the desk, groaning as she feebly clutched at a bottle of liquor. Beleth turned to the right and saw Hanneman poring through some books on his shelf, muttering to himself with great fervor. 

These two were the most prominent professors? A curious duo, for certain. Perhaps it would be better if Beleth returned later... 

She turned and made her way through the halls and down the narrow stairs, her legs clanking against stone every step of the way. Her thoughts roamed to this strange place and its strange people as she walked, conjuring an image of Rhea in her mind’s eye. 

Who was this woman? Why was Jeralt so uncomfortable around her? 

Beleth walked in silence to her classroom, keenly aware of the eyes following her every move and the hushed voices of the students. 

“She lost her leg to Prince Dimitri and still beat him?” a girl with a griffon charm on her waist asked. 

“Yeah, and then she knocked out Professor Manuela with that dismembered leg!” another student confirmed. “Sylvain said that she wasn’t even trying to fight and still wiped out everyone!” 

“She’s one of the Demon Twins for a reason...” the first girl shuddered, flinching as Beleth clanked by. 

“Do you think she heard us?” 

They always said that, no matter where she was or who was talking about her when they thought she wasn’t listening. She was tired of it: of all the whispers and the fearful stairs, all the people wondering if this Demon was going to rip their throats out at the slightest provocation. 

The whisperers were a bit kinder to Byleth, most likely due to his being blind, but their words were always filled with fear. Nobles would express harsher opinions at times, turning up their noses at the lowly mercenaries who had taken care of what they couldn’t be bothered to dirty their own hands to do. 

Beleth remembered trying to kill one such upstart years ago, after he had gone on a tirade of scathing insults about the company, and had nearly cost them their payment as a result of it. Had Jeralt not strong-armed the youth into upholding his end of the deal, the mercenaries may have been attacked by knights in the noble family’s employ and been driven from their territory. 

“I don’t blame you, Belle,” her father had sighed after the debacle had been sufficiently defused. “I wanted to hit him, myself, but this is part of the job. There will always be insufferable people like that fool back there, but we have to be professional.” 

Be professional. Yes. 

Be professional. 

Beleth entered her classroom and paused at the chatter that was flowing forth from the students within: apparently, she’d been so wrapped up in her memories that she hadn’t heard them beforehand. 

“Did you see how Caspar and I knocked each other out at the same time?” Raphael was laughing. “I gotta work on my muscles even more now! That means more training and eating!” 

“Training and eating are all you do, Raphael,” Lysithea grumbled from amidst a plethora of thick tomes, not even lifting her sharp eyes from the pages she was devouring. “You must focus on your studies just as much if you want to be a proper knight.” 

“I hope Captain Jeralt was impressed by my skills!” Leonie was maintaining the string on her bow: gently testing the thick cord and rubbing it down with a substance that smelled faintly of beeswax. “I haven’t forgotten anything he taught me!” 

“I acquitted myself as any noble of House Gloucester should,” Lorenz declared, but he was looking sourly down at his rose-less lapel before sighing. “Alas, it appears I shall need to mend my slovenly appearance...” 

“I’m sorry,” Marianne whispered, staring down at her feet. “You only got hurt because of me.” 

“Your apology is not necessary, Marianne!” the noble shook his head. “It is the duty of a noble to protect those beside him, after all! I would not allow a woman as fair as you to be injured on my watch!” 

“Say, do you think you could help me out on the battlefield, Lorenz?” Hilda took this opportunity to sidle up to the preening noble, her eyes wide and almost innocent as she stared at him. “I’m not the most confident fighter, and having someone as strong as you protecting me would make me feel so much better!” 

“Hilda, we all saw you knock Dedue back before Lysithea blasted him,” Ignatz spoke up hesitantly. 

“Hey, Teach!” Claude’s voice made everyone fall silent as their eyes fell on Beleth, making her instincts flare to flee. “How are you feeling?” 

“I am fine. Is everyone healed up?” Beleth looked over her students, pleased to see that none of them were bearing serious wounds. 

“We’re all hale and hearty!” Claude nodded. “What’s on the agenda next, Teach?” 

What was next... that was quite a question. 

“Lysithea, I would like to look over those materials with you as soon as possible, if that will suffice,” Beleth turned to the young mage, who finally tore her gaze from her books to nod. 

“Of course, Professor. I’d be glad to share my materials with you,” the girl nodded. “I feel I could learn more if you were with me.” 

Good. 

“And now, regarding your training,” Beleth looked over everyone, gauging their reactions. “We will start with basic form drills and running laps around the monastery grounds to build up your endurance and stamina.” 

“Alright!” Raphael pumped a fist excitedly while Hilda stifled a groan. 

Ignatz swallowed nervously, and even Lysithea raised an eyebrow at the announcement. 

“Each of you will choose two weapons to practice with. Marianne and Lysithea: you will have one melee weapon to work with alongside your magic,” Beleth continued. “One must be able to adapt on the battlefield, and relying on one skillset alone will only spell doom in a situation where flexibility could save your life.” 

“Could I not just focus on both schools of magic, instead?” Lysithea asked. “My body isn’t exactly suited for physical exertions.” 

Beleth considered the girl’s proposal: a well-rounded mage could be devastating on the battlefield, a perfect mix of offense and healing support. 

“If you feel that type of study would be more beneficial to you, then go ahead,” Beleth relented. “Offensive and healing magic from one mage would be quite a benefit on the battlefield.” 

Lysithea nodded. “Leave it to me!” 

With that, Beleth looked out over the rest of her class, gauging them. “Now, tell me what secondary weapons you wish to use.” 

Raphael lifted a meaty hand. “I’m good with axes!” 

“I’m not too shabby with an axe, either,” Claude shrugged. 

Hilda glumly stretched her arms over her head. “I’ll use a lance if I have to.” 

“I’m good with bows and lances, thanks to Jeralt’s training!” Leonie declared. “I’ll show you what I can do!” 

“I, um, guess I’ll use a sword?” Ignatz stammered. 

“M-me too,” Marianne’s voice was almost too soft to hear, but Beleth nodded in her direction. 

“I shall devote myself to lancework and black magic,” Lorenz declared. “Might and magic is the specialty of House Gloucester!” 

Maybe he’d be a better mage than a footsoldier? 

“Good. You have your goals,” Beleth looked over her students. “I’ll focus your assignments and work around your chosen disciplines, but it’s up to you to follow through on everything.” 

“Of course, Professor,” Lysithea nodded. 

“Leave it to me!” Raphael pumped his fist excitedly. 

They certainly had spirit, save for Marianne. Beleth would have to really work to help her build up some confidence. 

For now, however, they would have to work on the basics. 

“If that’s decided, then come with me to the training grounds,” Beleth commanded. “We have some drills to start on.” 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ 

“You are amazing, Byleth!” Flayn’s excited voice filled Byleth’s ears while he concentrated on controlling his four arms, a fishing rod clutched in each metal fist. “This catch is simply divine!” 

“How could one small girl eat so much fish on her own?” Sothis wondered from where she lingered to his side. “It is quite disturbing, if I am being honest.” 

Moving everything in the warehouse had been easy enough: his four arms had made quick work of stacking crates filled with nuggets and ingots for the blacksmiths, sacks of grain and hay for the horses, and planks of wood meant for roofing and other repairs. 

Two of the arms tugged as something snagged his bait, and Byleth yanked as hard as he could. Two splashes followed, and he could feel small bodies writhing on the other end of the lines. 

“Get the basket ready, Flayn,” he told the green-haired girl as he swung the catch over to her, hoping he wouldn’t smack her in the face with a fish. 

“On it!” there was more movement from the rods, and then the lines went still as the fish were removed from the hooks. 

There was rustling, followed by a soft thud. 

“I think that will be plenty, Byleth!” Flayn declared. “Oh, my mouth is watering just thinking of how delicious these fish will be!” 

She really liked fish, huh. It was adorable, if Byleth was being honest. 

“Glad to be of service, Flayn,” he reached out with the rods until he located the baskets which held them. 

He swung all four rods over and dropped them in with a clatter and the thunk of wood against wood, then turned to where he hoped Flayn was still standing. 

“I shall have these cooked up immediately!” she declared. “Oh! But before I forget! Thank you again for catching these for me.” 

“I was glad to,” Byleth shook his head, pausing as he heard the tell-tale clanking of his sister’s metal legs. “And we had a deal, anyway.” 

“Move it!” Beleth’s voice made him turn his head towards the monastery’s entrance hall. “Faster, Lysithea! You too, Hilda!” 

“Come on! We have training to do!” the boisterous voice of one of Beleth’s students called. 

“You’re the only one happy about that, Raphael!” 

“Do I have to do this?” a young girl’s voice demanded. 

“Yes,” came Beleth’s deadpan answer, which made Sothis giggle. 

“I almost pity her students,” the girl said. 

“Byleth, can I ask you something?” Flayn spoke up again, this time at his side rather than behind him. 

He could feel her close to him, her presence a faint glimmer of warmth in the omnipresent darkness. “Ask away.” 

She was second only to Sothis. 

“I hope I am not prying, but how did you lose your arms?” Flayn asked, tapping one of the metal limbs with her finger. 

“Accident, several years ago,” Byleth shook his head, absently reaching up to brush metal fingers against his blindfold. “Both Beleth and I were lucky to survive. The monks and surgeons that father brought us to were barely able to keep us alive, especially after they had to amputate what we left of our arms and legs.” 

“Oh my!” Flayn gasped. “What happened?” 

It was all a blur, if he was honest: he remembered the mages that the company had been dispatched to eradicate in the Kingdom, remembered chasing them down their cavern hideout, but then everything got fuzzy afterwards. 

There was a foul scent, coming off of some strange black liquid that the mages had been harvesting for some reason, and then Byleth remembered a boom unlike anything he’d ever heard. 

Then there was the blossoming agony that shredded his arms and seared itself into his eyes before everything went black after a blinding flash, followed by the heat of a thousand suns. He didn’t remember how the duo had gotten out of that cave. 

Beleth refused to talk about the details, but Byleth knew that she remembered every moment as if it had just happened yesterday. Sothis didn’t like to talk about it, either: vanishing to wherever she went whenever she wasn’t guiding Byleth. 

Maybe to that throne room they’d seen when they were kids? 

“I don’t quite remember,” he admitted to Flayn. “All I remember is a cavern, a foul smell, and then a lot of fire.” 

He heard Flayn swallow, a soft intake of breath following. “My goodness... that sounds horrific. To think that you’ve endured such suffering.” 

“My sister and I have survived then, just like we’ll survive now,” Byleth said with a shrug, making metal rattle. “I do not know how well she will deal with her students, however: neither of us have much experience in dealing with people younger than us.” 

Flayn giggled. “It is a good thing that I am not one of those people!” 

What? What the hell was she talking about? 

“She appears to be younger than both of you,” Sothis commented, and Byleth could practically hear her furrowed brow in her voice. “And yet... something about her strikes me as unusual...” 

“Flayn, there you are!” Seteth’s footsteps approached. “And Byleth. I thought I informed you that you were needed in the warehouses? I do not enjoy repeating myself.” 

“Brother, Byleth has already taken care of his duties in the warehouse!” Flayn chirped. “He has been catching fish for me in the meantime!” 

“You completed moving everything already?” Seteth asked, his incredulity plain in his voice. “It’s been scarcely two hours!” 

Byleth waved all four of his augmented arms at the man. “You seem to keep forgetting that I am stronger than most ordinary people.” 

“So you say,” Seteth murmured. “I will check to ensure that everything is in its rightful place later. This... is a lot of fish. I hope you do not plan on being wasteful.” 

“Of course not, brother!” Flayn declared. “I will cook up what I can and give the rest to the kitchen! Oh, I am so happy to have someone who is willing to catch fish for me!” 

Seteth chuckled softly, a gentle noise that conveyed the affection he held for this girl who may or may not be his sister. “I am glad to see you enjoying yourself. Thank you for taking the time to fish for my sister, Byleth.” 

“It was my pleasure,” Byleth nodded. “Your sister is fine company to be in.” 

“I couldn’t agree more,” the advisor declared almost immediately, his enthusiasm making the corners of Byleth’s mouth twitch. 

“He clearly loves his sister, but I feel there is something more here,” Sothis mused from Byleth’s side. “His doting over her feels... more similar to how your father fretted over your sister and you when you were younger.” 

Curious. 

“I have to ask, however,” Seteth’s tone became harder and much more defensive, and Byleth could have sworn that he felt a chill in the air. “What are your intentions with my sister?” 

“B-brother! I am allowed to have a friend!” Flayn spluttered. “I am not a child!” 

“If you have any impure notions, I will-” Seteth’s words sputtered out as an impact was followed by a wheezing groan. “F-Flayn!” 

“That is enough, brother! I do not need you hovering over me at every moment! I am more than safe with Byleth, and I enjoy guiding him around the monastery!” came the sister’s voice, filled with embarrassment. 

“That girl’s elbow is quite strong,” Sothis muttered with no small amount of fear. “Do take care not to upset her.” 

“Noted,” Byleth nodded. 

“I apologize for my brother,” Flayn sighed. “He means well, but his overbearing meddling can be frustrating without measure!” 

“It’s good to have a sibling who cares so much for you,” Byleth shook his head. 

“I agree, but he has a tendency to take it too far!” Flayn insisted. “Now, would you be willing to help me take these fish to the kitchens? I wish to begin cooking them!” 

“By your leave, Sir Seteth,” Byleth bowed in the advisor’s direction. 

“Very well. Do be careful, however,” Seteth replied, which was followed by his departing footsteps. 

“Let us be off!” Flayn declared, her fish-laden basket rustling as if she’d just picked it up. 

“Lead the way,” Byleth said, the world snapping into focus through Sothis’s eyes as she placed a hand upon his back and granted him her sight once more. 

At least this would give him something to do. 

He looked after a very excited and eager Flayn as she darted up the steps, her arms laden with fish, and he felt his lips twitch into a ghost of a smile. 

“Come on,” Sothis ordered, turning her head so Byleth was once more subject to the unnerving out-of-body view of himself. “The girl may be adorable, yes, but I am still your guide. We are bound together, are we not?” 

Byleth watched himself nod, turning his face towards Sothis. “And there is none other I would rather be bound to. I only wish I could see you.” 

Sothis faltered, then chuckled. “My, my! Your sweet words never cease to astound me whenever you speak them! If you wish to see me, perhaps I shall show you my reflection, later. As for now, we have a kitchen to get to.” 

Right. 


	7. The Truth of a Name

“I swear this woman is trying to kill us,” Hilda groaned as the class ran through their drills yet again. 

Claude inhaled through his nose and forced a nod at his companion, fighting through how his muscles burned and ached and how the wooden haft of his training axe bit into his hands. Beleth was a harsh, demanding taskmaster, but she never pushed the students beyond their limits and always ensured that they were taken care of afterwards. 

“I actually prefer being in the classroom at this point,” Hilda continued griping as she ran through the lance drills Beleth had shown her. “My arms are going to fall off and I feel like my chest is caving in!” 

“You just need to eat and train more!” Raphael declared as he hacked through another dummy, his training axe jarring as it struck the pole holding his target up. “Then you’ll get as big as me!” 

“I don’t think anyone is going to get as big as you, buddy,” Leonie grunted while using the haft of her lance to parry a clumsy sword thrust from Ignatz. 

“No hesitation, Ignatz,” Beleth called over, her monotone voice somehow filling the entire yard despite her not raising the volume of it. “Hesitation is death on the battlefield. Just focus on the forms you’ve been training with.” 

“U-um, yes, Professor! Sorry!” 

Boy had a lot to learn, but he was getting there. 

“Did I say you could rest, Claude?” the Professor’s piercing gaze burned into the back of his head, and Claude quickly struck at the dummy before him. 

Ruthless taskmaster, indeed...they trained hard until Beleth called for a rest or if someone desperately needed to stop. Until then, they drilled relentlessly under her supervision, save for Lysithea. 

Claude glanced at where the young girl was seated in the corner of the grounds, poring through a stack of tomes on Faith and white magic. He was pretty certain she had a vacation home in the library, and the same could be said of Linhardt. Well, Claude supposed he wasn’t much better, if he was being honest. 

Lucky little Lysi, the Golden Deer’s volatile powerhouse: got to read instead of train. 

He swung at the dummy again to get Beleth’s burning glare off of his back. 

“You’re doing fine, Marianne,” their Teach moved to the Edmund girl next, gently nudging her arms this way or that to direct her into the proper stance. “There you go. Try that. Remember to keep your grip firm but not too tight.” 

“I-I’m sorry,” Marianne squeaked. “I’m giving you so much trouble...” 

Claude looked over to see Beleth actually rub Marianne’s head, running her lithe yet strong fingers through the girl’s messy blue hair. 

“It’s no trouble at all, Marianne. I am here to teach you, no matter how long it takes,” Teach’s voice was softer than before, but there was still no hint of emotion in it. 

How the hell was she able to keep her emotions suppressed like that? Or...it was like Beleth didn’t have any to begin with. He’d noticed it before, but that didn’t make it any less frustrating. 

“Now, just focus on your target, okay?” Beleth was guiding Marianne’s arm with her hands, gently demonstrating the motion she was trying to get the younger girl to emulate. “Just make it one motion, and step forward so you’re not fighting against your own body weight.” 

“O-okay!” 

Wood thunked against straw. 

“Nicely done! Just keep practicing like that until you feel like you have the hang of it, okay?” 

“Yes, Professor... thank you.” 

“Professor, what do you think of my lance form?” Lorenz asked as he demonstrated a few more jabs with his lance. 

Beleth watched him closely, shooting another glare at Claude to make him attack his dummy again. “You’re getting the hang of it. Do you feel your body acclimating to the strain yet?” 

“A Gloucester improves quickly, Professor!” Lorenz declared. “I will give it my all!” 

“Keep drilling and training,” Beleth said, right as the doors to the grounds rumbled open to admit her brother, of all people. 

He was being tugged forward by Seteth’s sister, who always seemed to be by his side nowadays- apparently, she’d volunteered to guide the blind man around the monastery- and Claude frowned at the sight of the full set of armaments he carried. 

Two swords like his sister’s, and that weird double-bladed spear hung from his armored frame, the dark metal gleaming ominously as he and Flayn strode forward. He murmured something to Flayn, who nodded and hurried away to the sidelines of the sparring grounds. 

“Ah, good, you came,” Beleth clanked to her brother. “Thank you for this, brother.” 

“Happy to,” Byleth answered, his voice just as empty as his sister. 

Beleth clapped her hands to get everyone’s attention. “Alright, class, this next exercise will be a spar against an unorthodox opponent.” 

“Don’t tell me we have to spar against your blind brother!” Hilda griped. “That hardly seems fair!” 

“Battles aren’t fair,” Byleth’s arms split apart in a rattling crescendo, two hands unsheathing the swords while the other two gripped the spear and swung it out horizontally before his stomach. “This is a good way to practice facing numerous opponents at once.” 

And a good time to see just how this blind guy fought. Claude remembered how Byleth had somehow ripped apart an entire squadron of bandits back when they’d first met in Remire, and this was a perfect chance to see just how he’d done so. 

“His weapons are blunted,” Beleth declared as Byleth crouched into a battle stance, his swords held out away from his body while his spear covered his abdomen, blades pointed to his sides. “So you need not worry about being grievously injured.” 

“You sure about that?” Claude muttered. 

Neither twin reacted to that. 

“Raphael and Leonie will face him first,” Beleth ordered. 

“Alright!” Raphael approached and hefted his axe, grinning at Byleth. “Let’s see what these muscles can do!” 

“Let’s do this!” Leonie declared. 

The two students flanked Byleth on either side, Raphael on his right and Leonie on his left, and readied their weapons. Claude closely scrutinized the blind man’s face, noting how his head cocked slightly in the direction of either Raphael or Leonie depending on who was moving the most. It made sense that he relied heavily on his hearing, but how would that possibly help him in battle? 

Hearing, alone, couldn’t show him where an oncoming blade was. Could it? 

Raphael made the first move, charging forward like a great bear. He swung with a guttural yell, his training axe hacking through the air with a harsh whistle. 

Byleth’s right sword whipped out with blinding speed, catching Raphael’s axe and knocking it aside with shocking strength. In the same movement, so fast that Claude almost missed it, the double-bladed spear snapped out and jabbed Raphael in the shoulder. 

“Oof!” was all Raphael said as he stumbled back, clutching his struck shoulder and leaving Byleth to retake his former stance as if he’d never even moved. 

“Whoa!” Ignatz gasped. 

“Oh my!” Flayn was clapping from the sidelines, jumping up and down like a child in a candy shop. “Most impressive, Byleth!” 

“Your speed is impressive,” Leonie mused. “But I’m not going to fall so easily.” 

She picked up a loose stone and tossed it, making it bounce loudly behind Byleth. He started to turn and move his sword in that direction, but quickly froze when Leonie tossed another stone in front of him. A third stone landed to his left and he turned, exposing his back to Leonie. 

And then she lunged, thrusting her lance at Byleth. She had this! 

Byleth’s sword arms whined and pivoted with blinding speed, snaking back into an X to catch Leonie’s strike just before it struck his back. 

“Stones, huh?” was all he said, Leonie yelping when his own spear hissed out like a striking Almyran Dusty Viper and swept her legs out from under her. “You’re not the first one to try that.” 

Leonie hit the ground and rolled, coming up standing with her lance aimed at Byleth as he stalked towards her. “Alright, I underestimated you. Won’t make that mistake twice!” 

She dropped her lance, grabbed a bow and arrow from the rack next to her, then nocked the projectile and sent it shooting at Byleth. His swords blurred, a pair of black streaks that ripped Leonie’s shot out of the air with a burst of wooden shrapnel. 

Leonie fired another arrow, then grabbed her lance and lunged while Byleth was busy slashing her second projectile. His swords were way out of position, for sure, but his spear was still guarding his abdomen. 

That was the downfall of facing someone with four arms, it would seem: it was like fighting several people at once. 

Byleth’s spear swept out, but Leonie ducked beneath it and thrust at his chest with her own weapon. The blunt wooden head cracked against the haft of Byleth’s spear, and he jumped back before lashing out with all three of the weapons he wielded. 

In the space of a heartbeat, Leonie was on her back with a double-bladed spear against her throat and two swords threatening her heart, her eyes wide as she stared up at the man who’d moved with impossible speeds to best her. 

“Not bad,” he said, breaking the pregnant silence that followed. “If I were a normal opponent, you probably would have won that.” 

Holy gods of Almyra...no wonder this guy was called a Demon. 

“I thought I asked you to go easy on them, Byleth,” Teach sighed as Byleth stepped back and sheathed his weapons to let Leonie get back up. 

“That was me going easy,” her brother replied, reaching down and pulling the girl to her feet. “Should I go even slower from here on out?” 

A cold sweat went down Claude’s neck: _that_ was Byleth going easy on them?! 

“Holy crap,” he whispered, hearing Hilda swallow nervously at his side. 

“Please do. I want them to get some experience in how it feels to fight numerous opponents at once,” Beleth said. “Give them some space to fight back.” 

“Yes, sister,” Byleth nodded. “Who’s next?” 

This was the power of the Demon Twins... no wonder Claude had heard so much about them. And it was no wonder why most Fodlanders were scared shitless of them. 

Byleth’s sightless eyes lifted and bore right into Claude through his blindfold, and the world became even colder as an aura of overwhelming power crashed over his senses. Death permeated the air around this Demon, and Claude’s throat closed with the sensation of cold steel being drawn across his flesh. 

“How about you?” the Demon asked, his monotone voice carrying death with each word. 

“Me?” Claude’s croaked out. 

Oh, gods of earth and sky, this was where he died. 

“I-I will do it!” Marianne, of all people, stepped forward and lifted her training sword, although the poor girl looked like she was about to melt into a little Edmund puddle. 

“Marianne!” Hilda squawked. 

Oh, not Marianne! 

“Claude and Marianne, then,” Beleth signed both of their death warrants with those words. “Remember, brother: go easy on them. Easier than you did before. Especially on Marianne.” 

Ok...maybe Claude wasn’t going to die today! 

“Yes, Belle,” Byleth took up his stance again after drawing his weapons once more, his sword arms swaying like serpents about to strike with their three-foot long steel fangs. 

Claude took up position on Byleth’s left while Marianne stood opposite him, clutching her training sword in shaking hands as she shuffled her feet into a clumsy stance. Claude swallowed the lump in his throat and took his training axe into both hands, spreading his feet and making the soles of his shoes scrape against the stone floor. 

“Male on my left... female on right,” he heard Byleth murmur. “So be it.” 

The finality in those words made gooseflesh erupt all over Claude’s arms while his fine hairs stood on end. 

“Ha!” Marianne charged him with her blade held out like a lance, nearly tripping over her own feet as she ran. 

Byleth easily parried her clumsy attack with a sword, but he didn’t do anything else aside from hold her in place. “Don’t hold your sword out like that when you charge, okay? If you fell, you might have stabbed yourself.” 

“I-I’m sorry!” the girl stammered. “I shouldn’t have-” 

“It’s okay: you are learning,” Byleth sheathed a sword and, like his sister, gently pat the top of Marianne’s head with a metal-covered hand. “There is no need to be so harsh on yourself. Why not try again? Spread your weight more evenly, like Claude is.” 

Wait, what? How did he know how Claude was standing? 

“Uh, how did you-” Ignatz started to ask that very question, but Byleth cut him off. 

“I heard his feet scraping against the floor, and I’ve been in enough battles to know that sound means a shifting of weight in a stance,” the mercenary explained. 

Right...that made sense. 

Marianne glanced at Claude, her bag-lined eyes staring at his feet before attempting to emulate him. 

“That’s a little too wide, Marianne,” Beleth called over. “Move your legs a bit closer and bend your knees more. That’s good! Now, try striking.” 

Marianne obeyed, slashing at Byleth with an inelegant, two-handed stroke that he caught easily on his spear’s head. She stumbled back, lowering her blade until the tip rested against the floor. 

“I... don’t think I can do this,” she whispered, her voice almost too quiet to hear. “I’m sorry.” 

“You just need more practice,” Byleth turned his back on Claude to face Marianne, his free hand snaking forward to pat her shoulder. “I’d be happy to train with you whenever you’d like.” 

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t trouble you like this,” she stammered, at which Byleth pat her head again. 

“It is no trouble, I promise. Now, try it again, okay?” 

“O-okay!” 

Somehow, this training exercise transformed into a confidence boosting session for Marianne, but Claude wasn’t complaining. It was another day he got to live. 

“Claude, you aren’t off the hook, yet,” Beleth’s voice made his soul shrivel up. “You and Marianne are still sparring against my brother.” 

Shit. 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

Jeralt eased himself out of his chair, glad for the extra padding it provided as his ancient bones creaked and protested with the sudden movement after hours of sitting down, slaving away over this gods-damned papers. 

This was the one thing about the job he hated the most, even more than sending people off to die for the Church. These Knights of Seiros were skilled, not unlike the ones that Jeralt had served with twenty years ago, but they were all strangers to him. 

Well, except Alois. It was strange to see the kid that Jeralt remembered raising suddenly being a grown man who had a wife and daughter of his own. And who could apparently split his enemies in half with that axe of his. 

Maybe Jeralt had trained him a little too well... 

“Damn it all... why did we have to get sucked back into this?” maybe he should have left Fodlan altogether, left this accursed Church far behind and raised the kids somewhere Rhea couldn’t reach. 

Maybe the kids would still... no. This had been the best thing for them, unfortunately. Jeralt had a reputation, some parts of it good and some parts of it bad, in Fodlan and he knew the territory better than most ever could. Trying to learn the customs, territory, and the political maps of a new land would take far too long, and his children didn’t have that kind of time. 

Not like him. 

_Oh,_ _Sitri_ _...if only you could see just how much they looked like you. I wonder if they have your smile? If their eyes would light up like yours did whenever I brought you some new flowers?_

Jeralt shook his head. Nostalgia was a dangerous thing to fall prey to, especially where Sitri was concerned. Rhea did something to her, to the kids. Rhea was responsible for all of this. 

Hot anger smoldered within his chest, and Jeralt fumbled for his flask before swallowing a mouthful its foul but necessary contents. The alcohol burned his throat as it went down, but a gentler warmth pooled within his belly before spreading through his veins. 

It helped him forget, to keep him anchored in the present instead of remaining a slave to the shackles of the past. It kept him looser, more controlled, especially when his blood was burning through his veins and the pounding of his skull became too much to bear. 

This damn blood...and whatever it was that Rhea was hiding inside of it. Sometimes, Jeralt wished she’d never saved his life all those years ago, wished that she’d let him bleed out as a forgotten soldier in the footnotes of Fodlan’s long history. 

She didn’t age- neither of them did -yet she was able to keep convincing all of Fodlan that she was somehow a different Archbishop every time a new woman was ‘chosen’ to take up the mantle. 

Idiots, all of them...so blinded by their faith that they remained blissfully ignorant to the strange things playing across the stage right in front of them. 

A knock on the door drew Jeralt from his thoughts, and he twisted to face it. “Who is it?” 

“It’s me, Father,” came the voice of his daughter. “May I enter?” 

“Yeah, come in, kid,” maybe this would help? 

Beleth’s legs clanked in their unholy cacophony as she strode into the room, her face the same impassive mask as always. How had Jeralt not heard her coming up sooner? Had he really been so absorbed in his thoughts? 

_She looks so much like her mother._

“I heard Lady Rhea called you up to see her,” Jeralt rumbled, banishing those stray thoughts. “Did you get a mission, yet?” 

Beleth nodded. “Yes. We are to be deployed to the east, near Alliance territory, next week. There is a convent from the Eastern Church whose faithful devotees are being harassed by bandits. Rhea would like us to ensure their safety by eradicating the heretics.” 

Jeralt nodded, managing to not flinch at Beleth’s usage of Rhea’s words. It was something she did without meaning to: repeating the phrases of their employers while recalling the details of the contracts. 

“I see. Taking out bandits is pretty routine for you, but this will be the first taste of battle for your brats,” he mused. “Be careful, alright? I imagine it’d be difficult to sleep at night if one of them gets killed.” 

At least for him if he’d been in her shoes, maybe. He had no clue if either of his kids felt anything, let alone regret or remorse. 

“I have no intention of letting any of my students die,” Beleth said immediately. “I did ask Rhea if I could bring Byleth with us to further ensure their safety, but she said he was needed here.” 

Yeah, that sounded like Rhea: she was quick to make use of all the pawns on her board, no matter who they were. 

“I think the brats will be fine if you’re with them,” Jeralt shook his head. “How is everything going with that Riegan kid?” 

Beleth paused, holding her chin with her hand like she was wont to do when she was thinking. “I think he was afraid that Byleth was going to kill him during training, earlier. He is skilled with an axe, but not nearly as much as he is with a bow.” 

Oh gods... Byleth, training the students? Poor Manuela was probably swamped with Beleth’s entire class right now. Kid meant well, but there were times he just couldn’t control how strong his arms were. 

“And the academic classwork? How is that going?” Jeralt asked, actually curious as to how well his daughter was handling that. 

He’d taught the twins what he could, of course, but most of their ‘schooling’ had been on bladework and basic field tactics along with survival skills that were necessary for life on the road. They’d never had access to resources like what the monastery had, even if said resources were being heavily controlled, and censored, by Seteth. 

“I am retaining the information that is needed,” Beleth answered, lowering her hand from her chin. “Studying with Lysithea has proven to be quite a boon, indeed. Her intelligence and work ethic are second to none.” 

Lysithea...was that the really young, white-haired girl that Jeralt had seen Beleth with in the library? She must be quite intelligent and talented, if he was able to get into the monastery at... whatever age she was. Girl looked like a child. 

“Is that so,” Jeralt mused. “How old is she, again?” 

“Fourteen, I believe. She’s the youngest student in the Academy at the moment, or so some of the other students have said,” Beleth answered. 

Damn, that had to be one impressive kid. Even if she was a rich noble with powerful parents, the Church wouldn’t let someone that young enter the Academy unless they were a bloody genius. 

“She is currently devoting herself to studying both schools of magic so she might provide a supporting role as well as an offensive one,” Beleth continued. “She has already learned basic healing, but she has not had many opportunities to hone her skills with casting it.” 

“That could be useful, but knowing white magic makes her a bigger target on the battlefield,” Jeralt reminded her. “Remember what I always told you?” 

“Go for the healers first, if you can,” Beleth said without hesitation. “Remove the enemy’s healing capabilities and tear them apart before they realize what has happened.” 

Jeralt nodded. “Right. And it’s equally important to protect your own healers if you want to keep everyone in the fight for longer.” 

“I will not let either her or Marianne fall,” Beleth declared, and Jeralt could have sworn that her empty expression hardened just for a split second. 

Maybe he’d just imagined it. 

“Good on you, kid,” he nodded. “Have you seen Byleth around the monastery much?” 

Beleth stared at him, the dark depths of her eyes peering into his very soul. “No. Rhea has had him assisting with jobs all over, and I have only seen him once or twice. That Flayn girl always seems to be with him, especially when they’re fishing together.” 

Jeralt’s blood burned again, and he winced before downing another swig from his flask. The smoldering heat cooled a bit, but he would need some more before long. 

“Huh, no wonder people have been complaining that the pond has seemed emptier,” he grunted. “Byleth is catching every damn thing in there.” 

Beleth nodded. “It appears that is so. Apparently, he has been passing the fish out to restaurants in town to avoid overwhelming the monastery kitchen.” 

“Clever,” Jeralt mused. 

It ingratiated the locals to Byleth and made them potential sources of information in case something happened. And the more familiar they were with him, the more they’d likely be willing to help him out. 

“Sir Jeralt,” a Knight poked his armored head through the door. “I beg your pardon for the interruption, but Lady Rhea is assigning you to train some battalions of new soldiers for the Church.” 

Ugh, there was always something. 

“Am I to leave immediately?” Jeralt asked, at which the knight nodded. 

“Yes, Captain. I will escort you there when ready.” 

“I will speak to you later, Father,” Beleth said. “Farewell.” 

And then she slipped out of the room, clanking up a storm as she went. 

“Be careful, kid,” Jeralt sighed to the empty space before it was filled by a suit of white armor. 

“Captain?” 

“I know, I know. Let’s go.” 


	8. Forged in Fire

“Professor, is this really necessary?” Lysithea complained yet again as Beleth dragged her class down to the monastery markets, mechanical legs clanking up a veritable storm as always. 

Claude still wasn’t used to that damn noise. 

The day was early: the sun had barely even cleared the horizon, leaving the skies painted a fiery orange-pink hue of the rising dawn. The morning chill still lingered, making the students shiver as they trailed after their teacher. 

Claude stifled another yawn, patting his cheeks in a vain attempt to wake himself up. “Teach, we’re heading out tomorrow for our mission, right? Why are we here so early?” 

“Because I made a foolish blunder, one that I intend to correct now,” came his professor’s bland reply. 

“Waking up Lysithea before she was ready?” Hilda guessed. 

Lysithea grunted and rubbed her eyes, her white hair unkempt and sticking out every which way. They were all dressed, of course, but Beleth hadn’t given them any time to bathe and make themselves presentable. 

Beleth stopped before a cluster of blacksmiths who were hammering away at their forges, blasting the students with heat and the stench of coals and iron. 

“What can I do fer you, Prof?” one of the burly smiths asked as he leaned on the counter separating the forges from the markets, eyeing the students and letting out a low whistle. “Looks like you drug those louts out of their beds.” 

He had a rough, pockmarked face streaked with soot and molded by countless years of working over a forge. His bushy beard grew out unevenly, and Claude could see old burn scars marking his skin, but his narrow brown eyes gleamed with mischief and pride from over a thick, mangled nose that had clearly been broken in the past. 

The man’s leathery skin rippled with a massive tapestry of muscles, and Claude could legitimately see him capable of grabbing a wyvern by the horns and pinning it to the ground. 

“She did drag us out of bed,” Hilda complained. “I need my beauty sleep and my hair takes forever to make presentable!” 

“I think you look great as always, Hilda,” Ignatz spoke up hesitantly, not noticing that he had a serious cowlick going on. 

It took all of Claude’s willpower to not reach out and try to smoothen it out. 

“I need the students fitted for armor, Arvit,” Beleth said, her entire class jolting. “It doesn’t have to be a full suit, but I am not sending them into battle dressed only in their uniforms.” 

“Professor?!” Claude stammered as the rest of the class realized what she’d said and burst into hubbub, themselves. 

“I do not need armor! I am a mage, not a soldier!” 

“P-please don’t trouble yourself over me!” 

“I will not accept anything less than what a noble of House Gloucester deserves!” 

“Aw, yeah! I can’t wait! These muscles can carry anything!” 

“Do I really have to wear armor?” 

Beleth lifted a hand and the class fell silent. “I am not throwing you into a battle with only your uniforms as protection. Pretty black and gold cloth will not stop arrows or blades. I will show you how to maintain the plate and mail, as well as the proper ways to put it on.” 

Her eyes roamed over each student, lingering on them before moving on, and Claude felt a warmth bloom in his sleep-deprived mind as those dark irises met his own. Despite her lack of emotions, she actually seemed to care about them, cared about their safety. 

“Alright, I think we can do that,” the blacksmith, Arvit, nodded as he eyed each student. “What were you thinking? Chestplate and chain mail vests?” 

Beleth nodded and leaned over the man’s counter as she gestured at some of the armor pieces displayed on the walls. “Yes. With greaves and vambraces for their arms and legs. I’d like them to be able to wear the armor over their uniforms.” 

Arvit rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he eyed the students again. “Hmm, I’d have to up the padding a bit since the uniforms aren’t exactly meant for combat, but that shouldn’t be too much trouble. What metal were you thinking? Iron? Steel?” 

“Umbral Steel,” Beleth answered, which made Claude choke on a cough. 

Even the smith raised an eyebrow. “That ain’t gonna be cheap, Professor. I usually reserve that stuff for the Knights of Seiros since they’re the only ones who can afford it.” 

“I can pay,” Beleth pulled a huge satchel from her belt- how the hell did Claude not see that earlier?!- and placed it on the desk, and Claude heard no small amount of coins clinking inside of it. 

Arvit loosened the drawstrings and peered inside, letting out another small whistle as he dug through it a bit with thick, callused fingers. “Damn, I reckon that’ll cover the armor and new weapons to boot. When were you needing this armor made?” 

“By tomorrow, but you need not rush yourself,” Beleth said easily. “I’d prefer you get the chest pieces done first if possible. I understand that this is a rushed time-table, but I’d only just realized that the students didn’t have any armor to wear for their mission.” 

“I get you,” the blacksmith nodded, actually chuckling as he absently pulled a thick golden coin from the satchel. “And weapons? I’ll have to fully count this, but I think you can get ahold of some high-quality steel weaponry for the kids.” 

“There are coins worth four thousand, three hundred and fifty-four gold in that pouch,” Beleth intoned, making the smith splutter as the jaws of each student in the Golden Deer dropped. 

“Professor, you can’t possibly spend that much gold on us!” Ignatz spluttered. “How much time had it taken for you to earn all of that?!” 

“Eight months,” came her reply. “Much of what I’d earned went to the company to pay for equipment upkeep, care for our mounts, and my father’s debts. This amount is what I have left.” 

“Good goddess, how much money does it take to run a mercenary company?” Leonie whispered. 

“A lot,” Claude muttered back at her. 

“Umbral Steel is expensive,” Beleth patted her armor and the sword she carried. “I will need every coin to outfit you.” 

“Why go to so much trouble just for me?” Marianne asked, her voice almost too soft to hear. 

Beleth’s blank face softened just for a moment as she looked over the students again, and Claude could have sworn that there was a flash of bright green in those dark, dark irises. “Because you are my students, and I will do everything in my power to protect you. I will spare no expense if it keeps you alive.” 

“Thanks, Teach,” Claude found himself biting his tongue to keep his next words in his mouth. 

_What’s the catch?_

This generosity had to be a way of getting him deeper in debt to this woman, who may or may not have already figured out his secrets. If all of Fodlan knew what he was, where he’d come from... the faithful of the Seiros tenements would be lining up to hang him from the closest tree they could find. Gods know Count Gloucester and others in the Alliance certainly tried to, and nobody there even knew about him. 

Claude had to find a way to pay her back, if only to get himself out of this hole she was digging around him. 

“You do not need to pay me back,” Beleth was saying, and Claude started. 

Had he been thinking out loud?! 

“B-but, I cannot just accept your generosity without properly compensating you!” Lorenz spluttered, and Claude’s heart rate slowed back to acceptable levels. “It wouldn’t be right of me, as a noble, to just-” 

Beleth silenced him with a finger to his lips. “You are all my responsibility. Compensate me by surviving and obeying my commands on the battlefield.” 

“I can do that!” Raphael boomed. “I gotta look after my little sis, after all!” 

“Good man,” Beleth nodded, patting his arm. 

Claude almost smiled. Almost. 

“Alright, Professor Eisner,” Arvit grunted. “If the kids’ll come back here, we can start taking their measurements. I’ll, uh, count up the cost of the armor plates and the chain mail and get in touch with you about the weapons you’d like to purchase.” 

“Understood,” Beleth nodded before looking at her students again. “Once you have all finished, come to the classroom. I have a quick lesson I’d like to go over with everyone before we depart tomorrow.” 

“Aye, aye, Teach,” Claude nodded. 

“Let’s get this over with,” Lysithea grumbled, glowering at Hilda as the pink-haired girl started fiddling with her unkempt white locks. “What are you doing to my hair, Hilda?” 

“It’s so soft!” Hilda declared with a gleam in her eyes. “What kind of shampoo do you use?” 

“Is that really important right now?” Lysithea asked, but she was flushed with embarrassment from the attention. 

“Aw, come on, little Lysi!” Claude laughed, immediately becoming the target of one of her vicious glares. “No need to hide it from us!” 

“Claude, I highly recommend that you shut up before you say something that you regret,” she snarled, ripples of dark magic crackling through her fingers. 

Claude swallowed nervously, feeling a cold chill go down his spine as he looked into the irate girl’s light purple eyes. “S-sorry, Lysithea.” 

Right...no need to poke a sleeping wyvern. Especially when said wyvern was powerful enough to blast him into dust with a few spells. 

“Claude, it is unbecoming to mock someone just because of their age,” Lorenz tutted from nearby. 

“Behave, all of you,” Beleth chided, making her students jolt. 

“Sorry, Professor,” Lysithea muttered, giving Claude another warning glare. 

“My bad, Teach!” Claude chuckled, fear turning his veins to ice when Beleth’s eyes truly looked into his own. 

He could feel her picking him apart, grasping through his soul to find what secrets he was hiding beneath his carefully crafted mask. 

_I know who you are_ , that gaze said. _I know where you’re from_. 

Claude forced himself to look away from those dark depths, to free himself from her. 

“It feels like we’re a big old family!” Raphael said happily, grinning like the big lovable guy Claude felt he was. 

Even Ignatz smiled at that. “It does kind of feel like that, doesn’t it? And the year’s only just begun.” 

“Are you sure you want to in-include me in that?” Marianne asked softly, her head lowered as she stared at her feet. 

Beleth patted her on the head again, making the girl squeak. “Of course. And if anyone says otherwise, I will throw them in the pond.” 

Even Claude smiled at that. 

“Professor...” 

“Alright, we don’t got all day!” Arvit snapped, but the older man was grinning at the class. “Get your poxy arses back here so we can get started!” 

“Y-yes, sir!” Ignatz yelped before hurriedly scurrying around the desk. 

“Thanks, Arvit. I appreciate you taking this on,” Beleth said to the smith, who nodded with a wide grin full of cracked, yellowing teeth. 

“Not at all! You’re giving me a damn fortune to outfit these kids, so the least I can do is hold my end of it!” the smith laughed boisterously, scooping up the large coinpurse in a thick hand before moving into the forges. 

Claude moved in after him, the sweltering heat of the forges blasting his body and shocking him awake. Metal clanked and water hissed as another smith used heavy tongs to thrust a red-hot slab of iron into a trough to quench his project, sending gouts of steam spraying in every which direction. 

These were the people responsible for maintaining and making the arms and armor of the Central Church’s army, huh? 

“Hey, Arvit! What do you got kids in here for?!” a female smith with a soot-covered face, short red-orange hair, and arms thick enough to snap iron, yelled over, ignoring the way her apron was smoking. 

“Armor order! I need their measurements!” Arvit belted back. “You do the girls, Lei!” 

“Damn right I will!” Lei yelled back. “I ain’t letting you swine put your hands on those young girls!” 

Arvit cackled. “Don’t get too jealous of their young, supple bodies, got it?” 

A red-hot piece of coal smacked Arvis in the chest, making him yelp as he slapped the smoldering rock to the hard floor. 

“Damn it, Lei! You coulda hit the kids!” he snapped. “Then we’d really be up to our arses in trouble!” 

Lei scoffed, but she shot Claude a wink that instantly made him like her. “Aw, the Church ain’t gonna fire us. Who’d repair all the damn weapons the Knights break every single day if they did?” 

“Ugh, don’t even remind me of how many swords Ser Catherine smashes on a daily basis,” another smith groaned from where he was trying to hammer a horribly bent sword back into shape. “Look what she did to this one!” 

He lifted his project, and Claude whistled at how the steel blade had been bent into an upside-down V. 

“Thunder Catherine did that? Damn,” he chuckled. 

Claude had yet to see the famous knight in person, or the Relic that she used, but if she could do that to a steel sword... a shiver went up his spine. 

“Oh, she’s done far worse to some of the blades she uses when she isn’t swinging Thunderbrand around,” the smith lamented. “And I’m the one who has to fix ‘em!” 

“Poor man, poor man,” Arvit snickered. “Alright, lasses: you go to Lei for your measurements! Lads: follow me!” 

The Golden Deer split up, with Claude leading the males to where another desk was set up away from the forges. There were ropes and strings with numbers inked on them in intervals draped across the wood, resting alongside quills, inkwells, and sheafs of paper. 

“Big boy, you’re up first,” Arvit pointed a thick finger at Raphael. “Just from your size, I think I have a few pieces in mind that might fit you, but I need accuracy. Can’t be puttin’ you in something too big or too small.” 

“Will do!” Raphael stood in front of the desk. 

“Lift your arms up and spread your legs apart,” Arvit ordered, taking a rope and wrapping it around Raphael’s thick bicep as the boy obeyed. “Damn, kid: you sure got some large muscles on you.” 

“And the appetite to match,” Claude deadpanned, making the smith snort as he switched arms. 

“I bet,” Arvit was muttering under his breath as he continued his measuring, stretching the rope across Raphael’s thick chest. “You gotta name, kid?” 

“Me? It’s Raphael!” 

Arvit took a moment to dip a quill in ink before scribbling down a bunch of lines and numbers on a piece of paper. “Alright. Your measurements are pretty damn similar to a soldier I did a month back that never came to get his order. Shouldn’t be too hard to shape some Umbral Steel to these proportions, but it’s gonna take a decent amount of the stuff.” 

“Why didn’t that soldier pick up his order?” Ignatz wondered. 

Arvit snorted as he quickly took the measurements of Raphael’s legs. “Poor bastard was too cocky and got himself ripped to pieces by a Demonic Beast. I’m told they could fit what was left of him in a bucket!” 

Ignatz’s face turned as white as a sheet while the smith barked with laughter. 

“Alright, Raphy boy, you’re good!” Arvit nodded to himself before pointing at Ignatz. “You’re up next, pipsqueak! Name?” 

“O-oh! It’s Ignatz!” 

The process was repeated while the smith muttered to himself about how scrawny Ignatz was. 

“Boy needs some more meat on him. If I hold out on padding, the plates are like to snap his wee bones from the weight, alone.” 

“Sorry,” Ignatz stammered, which earned him a light elbowing from Arvit. 

“Ah, I’m just messin’ with you, kid! I get the feeling Professor Eisner is gonna whip you into proper shape!” Again, Arvit scribbled the measurements down on another piece of paper before releasing Ignatz and pointing at Lorenz. “You with the weird haircut.” 

Lorenz spluttered. “Weird?! This is-” 

“Shuddup and get up here!” 

Claude snorted and looked over at where Lei was taking Lysithea’s measurements, nodding to the small girl as she spoke of something Claude couldn’t make out. The burly smith was surprisingly gentle as she patted Lysithea’s shoulder with a blistered and callused hand large enough to cover her entire head, saying something that made Lysithea straighten her back with pride. 

“Alright, this shouldn’t be too hard,” Arvit muttered behind him. “Lorenz Hellman Gloucester... alright, Claude von Riegan: get over here!” 

Guess he shouldn’t be surprised that Arvit knew his name. Probably knew all of the house heads since they were the future leaders of the three nations, after all. 

Claude spread his arms and legs the same way he’d seen the others do, watching other smiths hammering away in a flurry of sparks, steam, and flickering flames all throughout the numerous forges filling the area. Arvit moved around him with the rope, muttering under his breath all the while. 

“How long have you-” 

“No talking,” the smith growled. “Makes me mess up my concentration.” 

Right...quiet it is, then. 

After a few moments, Arvit grunted and backed away, followed by the sound of the quill scratching against parchment. “Alright, you kids are good to go. Run along back to your Professor.” 

“Yes, sir!” Ignatz scurried out with the other three boys in tow, his hurried words drawing a chuckle from the brawny smith. 

Claude was almost glad to leave the hot, stuffy forges behind for the cooler Garreg Mach morning, filling his lungs with sweet, sweet nectar that wasn’t thick with smoke and coals. 

“Great! I can go back to sleep!” Hilda declared as the girls came out scarce seconds later. 

“Hilda, Teach is expecting us in the classroom,” Claude reminded her, earning a weary side eye from the pink-haired girl. 

“Yeah, we can’t keep her waiting!” Leonie declared. 

The class trudged through the slowly awakening monastery, shuffling past white-clad soldiers and other early-rising monks alike. 

“What are you brats doing up so early?” Jeralt stopped his conversation with another knight as the class filed into the reception hall. 

“We were being measured for armor, curtesy of Teach,” Claude explained, his soul freezing inside of him as the Blade Breaker’s eyes bore into him. 

He could feel the grizzled mercenary gauging him, almost the same way his daughter did, but Claude forced himself to meet the man’s gaze. 

Jeralt actually grinned a bit at his defiance. “That explains why Beleth rushed up to my office this morning, demanding to know where I’d put her company funds. If she took all she had, I can only assume she’s outfitting you with something expensive but high quality.” 

“Umbral Steel,” Lorenz nodded, making the older man whistle. 

“Damn, she’s serious about ensuring that you brats don’t get seriously hurt,” Jeralt chuckled. “Even I was nearly bankrupted just getting that armor for her and Byleth along with their weapons. You better do her a favor and keep yourselves alive, you hear?” 

“You got it, Captain!” Leonie grinned. 

The Blade Breaker nodded. “Get moving, then.” 

With that dismissal, Jeralt turned back to the knight patiently waiting for him to finish and started talking about some recruits needing to be tested. 

Claude followed his class out into the academy grounds, where a few students were chattering while waiting for the start of their early classes. Seteth was apparently supposed to host a seminar later, but Claude wasn’t sure if he wanted to attend. 

This might be a good chance to poke around the man’s office to see if there was anything particularly interesting held within. So long as he didn’t get caught, but Claude had plenty of experience from slipping through his father’s palace back in Almyra. 

His memories drifted to darker places, to knives that flashed in the darkness and friendly faces that twisted in rage and pure hate while they spit his name like a curse. To poisoned food and assassins who attempted to stage ‘accidents’ to befall the filthy half-breed prince. 

Claude shook his head, fighting to dispel those foul memories and focus on what was in front of him. 

“Everything went well, I take it?” Beleth’s monotone voice snapped him from the past and dragged him back to the present. 

They were all in the classroom of the Golden Deer, where the other students were sliding into their seats while Professor Eisner finished sketching the outline of a human body on the chalkboard. 

“Yes, we were all measured for our armor pieces,” Leonie nodded. “Are you sure you’re comfortable spending that much gold on us?” 

“If it helps keep you alive, then yes,” Beleth said firmly. 

“Um, Professor? What’s the purpose of the drawing?” Lysithea asked, absently reaching up to run her fingers through her unkempt white hair. 

“There is one last lesson I need to impart to you before we go off to battle,” the Demon Twin declared, jabbing her chalk at the outline. “And that is where to strike to kill your enemy before they kill you.” 

The air in the classroom dropped several degrees, and Claude could easily sense his classmates’ unease. 

“To k-kill?” Ignatz gulped. 

Beleth nodded. “I...am not fond of taking children into battle, but I did say I would forge you into professional soldiers. That means fighting and killing on the field of battle.” 

Her dark eyes swept over the class, and Claude could have sworn that there was a demon lurking in those black depths, opening a fanged maw wide as blood dribbled down its chin. 

“You must be quick and decisive when facing your opponents, for they will not show you any mercy even if you are children. Any hesitation can and will result in someone’s death,” she continued. “I will do all I can to help you survive on the battlefield, but I am not going to fight the battles for you. You will learn and you will survive, is that clear?” 

Claude stole a glance at his classmates: Ignatz was staring at his desk, the poor boy looking like he was fighting tears as he clenched and unclenched his fists; Leonie and Lorenz were both grim-faced, but neither of them seem surprised by this declaration; Hilda was restlessly tapping her fingers against her legs, the only sign of her growing agitation while Marianne gave the pink-haired noble a worried look; Raphael’s face had etched itself into a pained expression, but he nodded to himself while murmuring “Right, we have no choice, huh?”, and Lysithea swallowed as she propped her notebook open, her quill already dipped in ink and ready to scribble down notes. 

“We hear you, Teach,” Claude nodded for everyone, grim acceptance rippling through him as he took in the faces of these would-be killers. 

How much was this going to change them? 

Beleth nodded. “Let us begin, then.” 

With that wonderful starting note, Teach launched into a lecture on the different types of wounds one could inflict upon their enemies with each type of weapon. Claude followed along in grim silence, watching where this hardened, elite mercenary tapped her chalk on each body part while describing various types of armor that the students were likely to encounter on the field of battle. 

“Now, can someone tell me what the weakest parts of a typical suit of plate armor are?” Beleth asked. 

Lysithea’s hand shot up, and Beleth nodded to her. “The joints, Professor.” 

Beleth nodded. “Anywhere that needs a lot of movement, like the elbows or knees, is going to be easier to slip a blade into, but there is likely going to be some chain-mail underneath that to cover those weaknesses. Not to mention how difficult it would be to hit those targets in the heat of battle, especially if the knight has a shield.” 

She tapped the throat of her drawing, ignoring all the other marks she’d left on the body. “If you’re able to, go for the throat or the slits in the visor but keep them moving. A fully-armored opponent might be more physically defensive, but they are also carrying a lot of weight and will likely tire out quickly regardless of how conditioned they are.” 

Hilda held her hand up, and Beleth gestured at her. “Couldn’t we also use weapons designed to combat knights? Might make it a little easier.” 

“Yes. Can anyone name those weapons?” Beleth asked, at which Leonie raised her hand. 

“There’s the mace, the hammer, and the armorslayer sword,” the girl answered. 

“Correct, but there is one more. Certain rapiers are designed to pierce plate mail and to take out the horses of mounted fightesr,” Beleth added, at which Leonie balked. 

“Aren’t those normally reserved for nobles?” she asked with a frown. 

“A sword is a sword,” Beleth shrugged. “As long as you have the skill to use one, I don’t see why only certain people can use a certain type of blade.” 

“A fine sentiment, indeed,” Lorenz murmured as he scribbled something into his notes. “But wouldn’t it be most prudent to take out those heavily armored foes from afar using magic?” 

“A good point. Most spells can go right through armor no matter how thick it is, but there’s always the danger that the mage attempting to cast can leave themselves open for reprisal. Mages must counter their enemy’s mages or else risk losing their heavy infantry before they can get close to the front lines,” Teach explained. “And archers must focus on doing the same or on picking apart softer targets. Using a storm of arrows against heavy armor can take out some soldiers, but it will ultimately take a lot of shots to do so and would not be prudent.” 

“Unless you’re using heavier arrows designed to punch through armor,” Claude mused softly, jolting when Beleth nodded. 

“Correct, Claude: there are arrowheads designed to penetrate armor, but they are expensive and hard to use effectively due to their weight. I have seen only a few use those arrows without wasting them, but they were fully-trained veteran Snipers working for the Kingdom,” she finished. 

She’d worked with soldiers that skilled? Claude wondered briefly if she remembered something that could be of help with his own archery, but then quickly dismissed the thought. There was no reason to dig himself into an even deeper hole around her, even if said hole was already dozens of feet deep. 

“Now, does everyone have a basic understanding of where to strike?” Beleth asked the question as casually as if she were asking if they remembered their math lessons. “Go ahead and bathe and freshen yourselves up, then I want you to come to the training grounds so that we might practice your blows.” 

And just like that, they were all on their way to becoming trained killers. 

It would have left a bitter taste in Claude’s mouth if he wasn’t already well-acquainted with the darker sides of life. 

“Claude,” Beleth’s voice made him freeze in his tracks, and he turned in the doorway with an easy smile on his lips; one that he’d worn as part of his mask for years, only to have it fracture. 

She was staring at him with those dark, soul-searching eyes, picking him apart from within and worming through the deepest recesses of his brain. 

“Yeah, Teach?” by some miracle, he kept his voice steady even as his fingers began to shake and he shoved them under his arms. 

“I’ll be counting on you to help look out for your classmates,” she said, her monotone voice betraying what Claude swore was a hint of concern. “You have experience they don’t, and I hope that you’ll use it for everyone.” 

“U-um, sure, Teach,” Claude swallowed the lump that formed in his throat. 

She nodded. “I’m sure you have your reasons for keeping who you are a secret, and I have no desire to pry or to expose you. I just want you to know that your secret is safe with me.” 

Claude paused, allowing the words to sink in as understanding dawned on him. 

Beleth clanked past him, then clasped his shoulder with a powerful, yet gentle, hand. “Go bathe: you smell like the forges.” 

How could he not snort at that? 

“Aye, aye, Teach.” 

Maybe he was wrong about her after all? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I know the in-game cost of things is much higher than what I had Beleth spending on the kids, but I'm trying to be more realistic in regards to the usage of gold in the story. Over four-thousand should be enough to purchase a small castle or something similar, so it should be more than enough to purchase an extremely strong and rare metal like Umbral Steel.


	9. The Sword of the Demon

Beleth exhaled through her nose as she walked her kids (her kids? Why was she...) through the steps of putting on their chain mail vests and strapping on their new armor pieces. 

Arvit and his smiths had outdone themselves: the gleaming pieces of umbral steel perfectly molded to the bodies of their new owners, providing shiny black shells of protection that would hopefully allow them to stave off death on the battlefield. 

“Oh yeah!” Raphael laughed as he flexed as much as his new black chain mail allowed, vambraces covering his forearms and greaves covering his lower legs. “Do I look like a knight, Professor?” 

“You look like a giant wall of black armor, Raph,” Claude chuckled as he adjusted his own armor over his uniform, his easy grin faltering as his eyes met Beleth’s. 

He was still afraid, she mused, even after her assurances that she wasn’t going to break his cover. Understandable: it appeared he’d lived in an environment where he couldn’t trust anyone but himself. 

Trust was difficult to earn, especially from one like him. 

“Do I have to wear this?” Lysithea griped as she fidgeted with her own mail vest, making the interlocking black rings clink and rattle. “It’s so heavy!” 

“Yes, you do,” Beleth answered, meeting the girl’s sharp glare. “I’d rather have you winded and sore from wearing that than dead with a blade in your gut.” 

That seemed to mollify her, but Beleth doubted she’d heard the last of her complaints. 

“Thank you for this, Professor!” Leonie beamed as she admired herself. “With this, I’m one step closer to being a real mercenary!” 

A snort came from nearby, drawing the class’s eyes to where a pair of well-groomed and decidedly noble-looking boys were sneering at the group from next to the weapon shop. Both wore blue patches with a roaring white lion stitched on their breasts, just over their hearts, identifying them as members of the Kingdom’s class. 

“Of course the stupid Alliance waif’s grand ambition is to be a lowly mercenary,” the raven-haired noble sneered, practically preening as he pulled his decorative saber out of its scabbard and held it skyward in a salute before sheathing it with a flourish. “We of the finer stock have greater plans in place for our _noble_ knighthoods.” 

A spark of something Beleth recognized as annoyance flickered through her, and she saw how Leonie clenched her fists as the student’s face hardened. 

“Please, like these Alliance scum know anything about the honor of knighthood,” the second noble, his grey hair tied back into a long ponytail, scoffed. “All they can do is stab each other in the backs or, in the case of the women, lay on them in order to get ahead.” 

“Bold words coming from a guy whose mother didn’t even know which of the five noblemen she slept with was his father until he was two,” Claude’s icy voice made the grey-haired noble flinch and clench his fists. “The only reason you’re here is because daddy dearest wanted to get rid of her and you.” 

Even Hilda snickered at that. 

“Why, you!” the boy started forward, only for Lysithea’s raised hand of crackling dark magic to make him halt in his tracks. 

“You call yourselves nobles yet you act like little more than common thugs,” Lorenz scoffed. “Such a disgrace to your titles. You’ll find that a true noble carries himself with far more grace and aplomb.” 

“Oh, stuff it!” the raven-haired noble snarled. 

Beleth silently called her magic to bear as both Kingdom boys drew their sabers and made to charge, only for a massive pair of hands to grab them by the shoulders and lift them into the air. 

“Hey, now, there’s no reason for any of this,” Raphael warned, his normally cheerful face grim and determined as the boys in his grasp flailed desperately to free themselves. 

“Unhand me, you base-born swine!” the raven-haired noble seethed, actually swinging his saber at Raphael’s chest. 

The blunt academy-issued blade bent with a metallic snap the second it came in contact with Raphaels’ umbral steel breastplate, and Beleth relaxed. 

“Are you done wasting my class’s time, children?” she asked as both boys stopped their pointless struggling to stare at her. “We have an important mission to carry out, issued by Lady Rhea, herself.” 

She motioned for Raphael to drop the duo, and he complied. The boys yelped as they hit the ground hard, losing their grips on their sabers and making them skitter away. 

“Go ahead to the gates,” Beleth told her class before turning back to the nobles as they rubbed their bruised bodies and swore. “I’ll catch up shortly.” 

“Don’t go too crazy, Teach,” Claude said with a dainty wave before striding away, the rest of the Deer in tow. 

“Honestly! And they dare call themselves nobles...” Lorenz muttered. 

“More like complete jerks,” Leonie agreed, at which Lysithea nodded. 

“You two,” Beleth said the second she figured her students were out of earshot, and the nobles froze with a pale aura forming around them as she snared them with her magic. 

Gravity was a fickle thing: too much could crush a person’s bones and grind them against the ground, but too little could send them rocketing through the air like a stone shot from a catapult before plummeting down to a very nasty death. 

Luckily, Beleth had years of practice behind her. All it took was a mere gesture, a whispered incantation, and an effort of will. 

She forced the boys’ faces against the ground and held them there, silently reminding herself to be careful as she manipulated the gravity around them with her fingers. “My students can handle themselves against a pair of small fries like you, but I wanted to make one thing perfectly clear to you and anyone who decides they have an issue with my kids.” 

“You wouldn’t dare hurt us, you filthy mercenary!” the raven-haired noble spluttered into the pavement. “Our parents are-” 

“Irrelevant,” Beleth cut him off. “And they are not here. If you decide you have a problem with my students, fine. But, if you attempt to seriously harm them, I will not hesitate to throw you off of the monastery walls. I have killed far more important people for far less than what you’ve done here, so do not think that I will show you mercy just because you are students.” 

She knew that there were at least a couple dozen people staring at her, and that some of them may have already alerted the Knights to a potential fight between students, but she found herself not caring. 

“Behave yourselves, boys,” was all she finished with as she lifted them into the air and held them out before her, letting them truly see the mercenary who was feared across Fodlan as a demon. “I would hate for our next meeting to be unpleasant.” 

She then flipped them so that they were upside down and tossed them at the stairs behind them, making the duo cry out as they smacked into carpet-covered stone. Oh, she hadn’t thrown them hard enough to cause any permanent damage, but they’d be nursing a few bruises for a while. 

“Well done,” Sothis mused as the girl appeared at her side, a satisfied smirk on her lips. 

“I hate nobles,” Beleth muttered in response as she trailed after her students, trying to tune out the incessant clanking of her metal legs. “Especially the ones in the Kingdom.” 

Sothis nodded sagely, but her smug grin never once faded. “That is understandable. The nobility in the Kingdom really seem to dislike mercenaries, do they not?” 

“Many of them see us as honorless sellswords who will do anything for the right amount of coin,” Beleth remembered several instances in which some rendition of that sentence had been spat at the Blade Breaker Company in the past. “At least the Alliance is more welcoming of mercenaries, even if they usually just hire us into causing trouble for a political rival.” 

“Indeed! I did so enjoy watching a few of those contracts, however,” Sothis said, amusement glittering in her eyes. “Why, I do believe I recall a contract in which you and Byleth-” 

“Hey, Teach!” Claude and the rest of the Golden Deer were already situating themselves on the pair of wagons that would carry the class to the convent. “Saved you a spot!” 

A score of Knights of Seiros were mounted around the would-be convoy, checking their arms and armor and talking softly among themselves as the wagon drivers tightened the harnesses tethering their teams to their vehicles. 

Beleth swung up onto the wagon and smoothly slid into the empty seat Claude had saved for her, almost sighing as she rested the great weight of her legs against the well-worn floorboards. 

“I take it you gave those two a talking to?” her class head asked with a cheeky smile, twirling a bit of straw between his lithe fingers. 

Beleth nodded, pausing to take note of how Hilda was chattering away to Marianne while Leonie was giving Ignatz some pointers on how to properly de-string a bow for travel. 

Lysithea was trying to read a book she’d brought with her (more class materials? Didn’t that girl ever take a break?) while pointedly ignoring how Lorenz was lecturing Raphael on proper eating etiquette next to her. 

“I think they got the message,” Beleth said to Claude. “I trust you to take care of any issues with other students, but if they attempt to seriously harm you, I want you to inform me.” 

“What, and let you throw them off the monastery walls?” he asked with a chuckle. “That’d be quite a sight, Teach, but you’d likely lose your job doing that.” 

“I agree!” Sothis chimed in, none around them reacting to her voice. “I would enjoy watching that, but we must not cause any trouble as of yet.” 

_“As of yet?”_ Beleth thought, raising an eyebrow at the green-haired spirit. 

Sothis nodded. “This place is quite strange, is it not? These students...I feel as if strange things are going to happen this year.” 

_“I see,”_ Beleth frowned. 

She had learned the hard way to trust Sothis on matters such as this, especially when the last time the spectral woman had one of her ‘feelings’, the twins had lost their limbs. 

_“Can you still turn back time, Sothis?”_

“What matter of question is that?” Sothis asked, but her eyes were twinkling as the strange symbol hanging around her neck glowed gold. “I will have to leave your brother on his own if I am to lend you my power for the fight to come...” 

Her expression fell, and Beleth would have reached out to her if they’d been alone. 

“I am responsible for him, especially since I could not save either of you before,” Sothis declared, conviction in her voice even as it wavered. “However, that Flayn girl has shown herself to be a... somewhat competent guide for Byleth. I am loathe to leave him utterly at her mercy, but...” 

“Hey, Teach? You spacing out?” Claude’s voice knifed through Sothis’s, and Beleth found her head swiveling towards him. “You were staring off into the distance like you were daydreaming.” 

“I was remembering,” Beleth said simply. 

Claude nodded. “Got anything interesting to share for this assignment? You are the elite mercenary here, after all.” 

Sothis settled into the space next to Beleth and leaned against her, her warmth sinking into Beleth’s bones. 

“Alright, Claude, if you want some advice...” 

\----------------------------------------------------------------- 

Edelgard von Hresvelg remained silent as she watched the Golden Deer rattle away in their wagons, surrounded by an escort of knights who wouldn’t likely be doing anything but watching their students become killers. 

The empty, blank face of Beleth Eisner was impossible to tear her gaze from, even as her monotone voice detailed her martial expertise for Claude, who nodded and seemingly absorbed every word she said. 

“Ah, there they go,” Dimitri, for once without one of his cadre of Lions at his side, strode forward to join her, his unruly blonde hair falling around his eyes. “I do hope that none of them are seriously injured in their fight.” 

Edelgard gave the prince a glance out of her peripheral vision, wondering yet again why he felt so familiar. The dagger she wore on her belt was a hundred pounds heavier whenever he was nearby, and sometimes she swore she saw something in those deep blue eyes of his that made every fine hair on her body stand on end. 

“They have one of the infamous Demon Twins with them,” she said. “I think they will be fine.” 

Dimitri nodded. “And a full contingent of the Knights of Seiros, as well. Not to mention whatever schemes Claude has certainly thought up. How are you faring, Edelgard? Are your classes going well?” 

Why was he so concerned with her wellbeing? Was Claude right and he had a... crush on her? 

“They are well, but I’d advise you to focus on your own studies instead of worrying about another’s,” Edelgard responded, making him chuckle and shake his head. “I have also heard that you are attempting to teach swordplay to some of the orphans around the monastery.” 

Dimitri nodded sagely. “They deserve to defend themselves just as much as anyone else, and maybe a knight will take them on as a squire if they can use a sword. It would be remiss of me to just abandon them to their fates.” 

A hopeless protector, is that so? How curious: that one side of Dimitri was utterly focused on helping others while the other was rumored to relish tearing them apart. Edelgard has yet to see this ‘Boar’ for herself, but if the stories circulating about him quashing that rebellion a few years ago were even slightly true, then Dimitri was capable of quite a strain of savagery. 

“Is that so?” memories of the dark dungeon flitted before her mind; images of blood, screams, and the mangled bodies of her siblings. 

Edelgard fought to keep her breathing under control, to keep her anger leashed tightly even as the Crest so many people were sacrificed for burned through her blood. 

_Hopeless protector...where was someone like you when my brothers and sisters were ripped apart? When our bodies were ravaged and our very blood defiled by those monsters who lurk in the dark?_

Dimitri, blissfully ignorant to her internal raging, nodded and offered her a smile. “Of course! I...know what it’s like to be helpless, to lack the strength to do anything about one’s circumstances...” 

His expression darkened, and Edelgard could almost see a flicker of flames within his eyes. “Forgive me. I shouldn’t be dredging up my painful memories in a casual conversation.” 

Right. Duscur, another tragedy orchestrated by Thales and his ilk. The thought of all those people slaughtered by those ghostly creatures and their...machines made her sick to her stomach. 

When the time came, she would happily put their entire filthy civilization to the sword, but as much as she hated to admit it, they needed each other. They needed the power she would hold as Emperor when the time came to overthrow this wretched church, with the entire might of Adrestia behind her, and she needed their ability to get where nobody else could, as well as their knowledge and technology. 

“I am sorry to hear of your pain,” Edelgard murmured, and was startled to find that she actually meant it. 

“What is this you’re saying about pain?” another monotone voice made the duo yelp and turn to find the blind Demon behind them, and Edelgard was surprised to see that he was without a guide. 

“S-Sir Byleth!” Dimitri stammered. “Are you certain you should be walking around alone?” 

The mercenary’s mouth twitched. “I am blind, not helpless. And Flayn has led me around enough to where I have a good sense of the monastery’s layout. The only issue I have is running into the people walking around.” 

“Well, perhaps we could accompany you around the monastery for a time?” Dimitri volunteered both of them, and Edelgard scowled at him. 

The nerve! To volunteer the future Emperor of Adrestia for...for... glorified babysitting! 

“I’d welcome the company if you would,” the seasoned mercenary nodded, his mechanical arms rattling as he moved past them towards the pond. 

Well, Edelgard mused, perhaps this would be a good chance to speak with him? To get a feel for what he and his sister believed in? 

She shoved her annoyance aside and stood by Byleth’s left side while Dimitri took the mercenary’s right. 

“How do you feel about your sister’s mission?” Edelgard asked, trying to feign curiosity while she watched the man who had effortlessly slaughtered Kostas and his scum out of the corner of her eye. 

“She will succeed,” Byleth answered. “Her students are going to have to learn quickly how to move on the battlefield, however.” 

“It is a harsh lesson, indeed,” Dimitri sighed, shaking his head. “Although I must admit I am surprised that Lady Rhea would assign students to hunt down brigands. Defending a convent seems more like a job for the Knights.” 

Byleth shrugged, making the metal plates comprising his arms sway and ripple like water despite the metallic clinking and rattling that accompanied the gesture. “Putting down bandits is routine for mercenaries like us. I’ve defended orphanages, manors, and villages from invaders before, but never a... what was it called...a convent.” 

“Ah, I did hear that Sir Jeralt took great pains to keep you and Professor Beleth isolated, especially from the Church,” Dimitri mused. “I wonder why.” 

“I don’t know, and it doesn’t matter to me,” Byleth said bluntly. “This church is just another place and Lady Rhea is just another client. I will serve so long as my services are contracted here.” 

Edelgard raised an eyebrow, then quietly reminded herself that the mercenary couldn’t see her. “Is that so? I suppose it is no surprise that you harbor no clear loyalty to the church, given your isolated upbringing.” 

“If you’d like to learn more about the Church of Seiros, I know the library has many materials you could peruse on its history and tenements,” Dimitri added, and Edelgard gave the buffoon of a prince a pointed glare. 

“I can’t read,” Byleth grunted after a moment of silence. 

Dimitri’s face turned beet red and he almost tripped over his own feet. “O-oh! I am so sorry! I...gah! What is wrong with me?!” 

Byleth’s right arm snaked out and pat the boy’s broad shoulder. “You aren’t the first to do that, trust me. I find it rather entertaining at times.” 

“So, why are we stopping at the pond?” Edelgard asked, watching the shadows of fish cruise lazily through the gurgling water. 

The aqueduct was spewing a steady waterfall into the basin, making the clear surface ripple constantly. The constant cascading and splashing were almost soothing. 

“Force of habit,” Byleth sighed. “Flayn drags me here every day to fish for her whenever I am done working and I suppose it’s been engrained in my muscle memory now. The waterfall is pleasant to listen to, as well.” 

“Is the water dangerous for your arms?” Dimitri wondered, his face still tinted red from embarrassment. 

“To an extent, yes,” Byleth answered. “Quint did all he could to insulate the cores and more vulnerable parts, and this metal doesn’t rust easily, but I cannot swim anymore.” 

That did make sense: the weight, alone, would probably drag him right down to the bottom of whatever he was swimming in. Beleth likely wouldn’t fare much better. 

“You’ve never been exposed to the church before, correct?” Edelgard asked, reminding herself to keep the words as innocent and veiled as possible. “What do you think of it now that you’ve met Archbishop Rhea, firsthand? Not many believers have the opportunity to do so.” 

“Like I said earlier: it’s just a place and Rhea is just a client,” Byleth said again. “And an organization this large usually has a lot of things that they sweep beneath the rug. A history that they don’t want their devout believers to find out about.” 

Oh? He was surprisingly astute! Maybe it was his experiences as a mercenary that had forged such awareness? 

“There might always be such darkness, but the Church is still devoted to the people of Fodlan,” Dimitri spoke up. “They helped keep order in the Kingdom after...” 

He trailed off with a sigh, reaching up and rubbing his forehead as if suffering from a headache. 

Perhaps this wasn’t the best time to be questioning Byleth about his beliefs. 

“Ah, there you are,” one of the other Blue Lions, Edelgard thought his name was Felix, strode up. “Keeping this warrior all to yourself, boar?” 

“Hello, Felix,” Dimitri smiled despite the insult and the sour expression his ‘friend’ was fixing on him. “Edelgard and I are just accompanying Sir Byleth around the grounds.” 

“I want to spar with you, Byleth,” Felix said bluntly, ignoring the two heirs. “The Golden Deer say that your speed and strength are without equal. I want to see how the other Demon Twin fights.” 

“A one-on-one fight will always end in my favor,” Byleth said coolly, and a chill went down Edelgard’s spine at the finality in the words. 

That was no empty boast. 

“I don’t doubt it, given your four arms,” Felix nodded. “I’ve also seen you using those to haul stuff that would normally take several people just to lift. You’re strong, absurdly so, but I want to see how you fight with that strength.” 

“Perhaps Edelgard and I could even the odds?” Dimitri again volunteered Edelgard, but she found herself actually wanting to participate this time. 

“I don’t think so, boar, not after how you ripped Professor Eisner’s leg off because you can’t control yourself.” 

Dimitri flinched. “That was an accident! I didn’t intend to use my Crest like that!” 

“Quint was very annoyed with that,” Byleth mused. “But I was quite impressed that you caused so much damage with just a training lance.” 

“My strength can be difficult to control in the heat of battle, even if it was just a mock fight,” Dimitri rubbed the back of his head, a sheepish grin on his lips. “Was, ah, your sister upset with me at all for that? Whenever I try to approach her, she’s busy reading, eating with her class, or otherwise.” 

“She isn’t upset,” Byleth shook his head. “Beleth holds no ill will towards you, I promise.” 

Dimitri smiled. “I am glad beyond measure to hear that.” 

“Well, are we going to spar or not?” Felix asked impatiently, and Edelgard fought the urge to roll her eyes. 

“There’s no need to be so rude, Felix,” Dimitri chided, and his friend scoffed. 

“I could use the exercise,” Byleth nodded. “Let’s go.” 

“I will go as well,” Edelgard chimed in, finding that she was actually enjoying this time away from Hubert and the other...nuisances that were constantly shadowing her. 

And this would be a perfect time to see the blind Demon’s martial prowess for herself. 

The group headed off at a brisk pace, with Felix immediately peppering Byleth with questions about how he learned to fight without seeing. Dimitri followed a couple paces behind them, at Edelgard’s side, and she felt him glancing at her as if struggling to come up with something to say to her. 

“Ah, Byleth, there’s stairs up ahead!” Dimitri called out, right as Byleth ascended said stairs without hesitating. 

“Looks like that wasn’t necessary,” Edelgard mused, pausing as an oh-so-familiar shadow attached itself to her once more. 

“Lady Edelgard, you didn’t tell me that you were going somewhere,” Hubert accused, eyeing the other men with a wary, suspicious glare. 

“You need not follow me everywhere, Hubert,” Edelgard chided, fighting the urge to sigh. 

“Ah, here we are!” Dimitri said as the group stopped before the doors of the training grounds. 

“No shit,” Felix grunted as he pushed the doors open and slipped inside with Byleth on his heels. 

“This could be an excellent opportunity to assess Byleth,” Edelgard said softly as Dimitri followed the other two. “Make careful note of his movements.” 

“As you wish, Lady Edelgard,” Hubert nodded, a sinister gleam in his eyes. 

The Imperials strode into the grounds and Edelgard immediately took note of Byleth picking up three wooden swords while Dimitri and Felix armed themselves. Other students and knights stopped in their drills or their sparring to watch what was going to happen, awed whispers already spilling from their lips. 

“Are you joining us, Edelgard?” Dimitri called, and Edelgard could feel Hubert’s eyes burning into the back of her head. 

“I am, yes,” she ignored him and strode forward, pulling a training axe from a nearby rack and situating herself across from her opponent. 

Three on one...and yet she still knew that they had no hope in winning. 

Byleth’s left arm snapped apart into two, now holding a sword in each hand while his right remained singular, also holding a wooden blade. His blindfold-covered eyes stared in the trio’s general direction, and Edelgard swore that she could feel him looking into her very soul despite his blindness. 

“How do you want to do this?” Dimitri asked softly, his voice blending in quite well with the hushed voices of the onlookers. 

Edelgard almost couldn’t hear him. “Trying to overpower him all at once would be foolish. I would suggest wearing him down, but I do not think his mechanical arms can get tired.” 

“We can’t win, I know that,” Felix muttered. “All I want to see is how he fights.” 

Edelgard and Dimitri nodded together. 

So, this would just be a reckless charge. 

The trio lunged almost as one, their feet pounding the floor as they dashed towards their target. Byleth’s head immediately cocked in their direction, his emotionless expression not shifting in the slightest as he lowered himself into a more defensive stance. 

Dimitri stormed forward, sweeping his lance at Byleth’s two arms while Felix darted at the mercenary’s midsection. Edelgard tried to circle around the right, to force Byleth to fight on three fronts, but one moment made her realize just how outmatched the trio was. 

His two left hands began to rotate with a metal whine, spinning the swords around with blinding speed. It whipped up a gale that made Edelgard’s hair and cape billow behind her and making her dig her heels in to keep her balance. 

“Whoa!” 

“Look at that!” 

“What the?!” Dimitri jumped back to avoid being sawed apart by the spinning blades, Felix doing the same. 

Edelgard pulled her axe up just in time to parry Byleth’s remaining arm, wincing at the sheer power shoving against her muscles as wood cracked against wood. Pain needled her arms, and Edelgard leaped backward to avoid a second, blindingly-fast follow up from her opponent. 

The wooden blade whispered against her shoulder, but thankfully it wasn’t a telling blow. She backed up and warily eyed her opponent, an odd primal fear emerging from somewhere deep in her at the sight of the metal limb swaying back and forth like a serpent. 

A serpent with a three-foot long fang of hard wood. 

Dimitri stepped forward, jabbing his lance with both hands at Byleth’s still-spinning hands while Felix darted around to swing at the mercenary’s side. One blade snapped out to swat aside Dimitri’s lance with shocking ease while the second ceased rotating just in time to parry Felix’s strike in another loud crack that echoed through the grounds. 

“Not bad!” Felix pulled back and unleashed a storm of cuts, slashes, and thrusts that Edelgard could barely keep up with. 

“Go, Felix!” someone called from the crowd. 

“Get him, Sir Byleth!” 

Byleth’s serpentine arms spun and whirled with even greater speed, one blade catching Felix’s vicious stream of attacks while the other snapped out at Dimitri to drive him back before streaking back towards the other swordsman. 

“Goddess, they’re so fast! I can’t keep up!” another voice from the audience complained. 

Finally, Felix yielded and leaped out of the Byleth’s range, panting hard as he passed his sword from hand to hand. “Damn...how the hell does he know where I’m striking? He can’t see me, so...” 

“He’s probably hearing us move and letting his arms take the lead,” Edelgard guessed, now certain that she was seeing a pattern forming in the relentless storm of blows that the four-armed mercenary was throwing out with his split arms. 

One arm of the two was focused on catching oncoming attacks and opening his opponent up for a blindingly fast counterattack by the second. The arms swayed to keep their targets on edge and distracted before lashing out like serpents, almost too fast to keep track of, and the insane power each one generated would be more than enough to bash through almost every guard raised against it. 

“Those have got to be some impressive ears, then,” Felix grunted. 

“Thank you,” Byleth said in a monotone drawl. “What do you think so far?” 

Edelgard blew a stray strand of her white hair out of her eyes, being struck once again by the foolish wish that it was brown, instead. “I can certainly see how you destroyed the bandits so easily. With that speed and power, it would take an army to defeat you.” 

Even their audience sounded impressed, if their excited voices were any indication. 

“And even then, I suspect that you’re going easy on us,” Dimitri chuckled. “You had plenty of opportunities to knock us flat but you didn’t take them.” 

“You wished to see how I fought,” Byleth said. “It wouldn’t be beneficial to you if I dispatched you before you saw anything.” 

If this utter humiliation was him holding back so much, it was no wonder that this man was called a Demon. 

“I will join you for this,” Jeritza’s voice made Edelgard tense as her lackey, who was supposed to replace the Deer’s fallen professor, moved into position at her side. “I wish to test your ability for myself.” 

“Jeritza, combat instructor,” Byleth said in an empty voice, his sightless gaze roaming over to where the newcomer was. “All four of you, then.” 

His right arm split as well, snaking over and retrieving a fourth blade from a barrel behind him before bringing it to bear with the others. 

“Shall we, Professor Jeritza?” Dimitri asked, blissfully unaware that he was talking to a beast just as unhinged as he was rumored to be. 

Both men wore masks, although Jeritza wore more than one to cover up both the monster and the man that lurked within him. That monster walked hand-in-hand with death, itself, etching the destruction of the world into its blackened, twisted heart. 

“Come,” Byleth spread his weight a tiny bit more, with two arms swinging a bit low while the others held their blades higher. 

“Go,” Jeritza lunged, Dimitri at his side. 

Byleth caught their strikes with the higher of his two blades, then drove them back with rapid thrusts from the lower two. Jeritza weaved through the attack and jabbed at Byleth’s chest, only for a metal serpent to bat his strike aside and a wooden fang to whip over his head with inches to spare. 

Jeritza jumped backwards to avoid another strike, just narrowly avoiding a blow that would have probably dislocated his shoulder if it had struck home. 

“Not bad, Professor,” Felix drove for Byleth’s exposed side, and Edelgard pushed for the opposite flank. 

It was a vain hope: making the arms overcompensate for the sudden attacks, but it was all she had at the moment. 

She wasn’t surprised at all when Byleth’s unabashed defense once again caught her strike before pushing her back alongside Felix. Time and time again, no matter how many times the group attacked, they were met by unyielding black metal and wooden blades. 

The quartet surrounded him and charged, a roar escaping Edelgard’s throat as she swung her axe with all the force she could muster with both hands. Byleth caught all four of their attacks and then pirouetted on the spot, his blades extended and whirling like the rotating saws used by Imperial logging mills. 

Wood snapped en masse, and Edelgard’s training axe became a splintered haft in her hand, and she looked around to see that the others’ weapons had suffered the same fates. 

The onlookers gasped as one, with a few students chattering excitedly while others actually cheered. 

“You are strong,” Jeritza examined his broken blade before tossing it aside, a glimpse of the monster within appearing inside the hungry gaze he fixed on the blind mercenary. “Even more than I’d expected.” 

“Agreed. We didn’t stand a chance,” Felix discarded his own destroyed weapon, respect gleaming in his sharp eyes. “I hope to become stronger than you one day.” 

“I do not think that will happen, so do not make that your goal,” Byleth shook his head, depositing his still-intact weapons into the closest barrel. “Make your goal to become even stronger than you were the day before.” 

“To think that you are so strong despite your blindness...” Dimitri chuckled. “I have a completely new view of you, Sir Byleth.” 

Edelgard found herself nodding in agreement as she found herself staring at the four-armed warrior in a new light. “I must agree. You were utterly magnificent, if I’m being totally honest.” 

If she could get him and his equally powerful sister to join her in purging Fodlan of this blight called the Church of Seiros... maybe she could dispose of Thales’s ilk far sooner than she’d first planned. 

“That was impressive,” Hubert murmured as Edelgard moved back to him. “His skill is beyond question. Is he loyal to the church?” 

“No, he isn’t, and neither is his sister,” Edelgard responded. “I would like to keep them under supervision for now, and maybe I’ll spend some time growing more familiar with them throughout the year. They could be useful allies.” 

“If we can trust them,” Hubert frowned. “They are mercenaries, after all.” 

Edelgard nodded, picturing the doll-like face of Beleth Eisner. “But mercenaries can be easily persuaded depending on what they value. I...I want to have them by my side. Both of them.” 

“That was quite a fight, wasn’t it?” Dimitri and Felix strode over, silencing the Imperials’ scheming. “Were either of you injured?” 

“I’m fine, boar,” Felix nodded. “I’ll have to consider what he said about being stronger than I was the day before.” 

“You do not need to worry so,” Edelgard shook her head. “I am fine.” 

“Good. I was concerned that I’d somehow hurt one of you,” Byleth, too, joined the students, his face still impassive. “Holding back in battle is... difficult for me to do.” 

“I felt your unfathomable power with each strike. If you hadn’t been holding back, we likely would have lost in a moment’s breadth,” Dimitri chuckled, shaking his head. “I am certainly glad that you and your sister came to our aid last month, even if it was by sheer coincidence.” 

“This is proving to be an interesting place,” Byleth said with a flurry of crackling metal as his arms snapped back together. “Perhaps one day I shall think the same way you do.” 

He said ‘think’ rather than ‘feel’. Perhaps there was some credence to the rumors that stated that the Demon Twins were incapable of expressing emotion. That they were just empty husks that existed solely to kill. 

Either way, Edelgard had much to think about and much work that needed to be done. And that swine, Solon, was waiting for her in the library. 

Let’s get this over with. 


	10. Innocence Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Golden Deer get their first true taste of battle and the horrors of violence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope I stayed true to everyone's characters here! Feel free to point out if I made someone act OOC (Out of character) in a weird way!

Beleth was used to the rattle of equipment, to the soft murmuring voices of men and women as feet slapped against the earth and kicked up dust. A soft, cool breeze cruised through the sea of trees and shrubbery, allowing beams of golden sunlight to filter through the swaying canopy as if the church’s Goddess were trying to show the way to the bandits. 

It had taken the class a day and a half to get to the convent – thankfully, it was quite close to the monastery- and they had broken down their camp mere hours before while Beleth spoke to the priestesses about their targets. According to the head priestess, a stern-faced woman with a voice as sharp as her hooked nose, the bandits had been raiding the convent for the past week, stealing donations gifted to the church by nobles and common worshippers alike before vanishing into the depths of the forest with their ill-gotten gains. 

One of the class’s escort, a sharp-eyed Dagdan woman by the name of Shamir, had scouted ahead and quickly found the home of the bandits: an abandoned village deep in the forest. According to the knight, the bandits numbered about a dozen or so, maybe more, and they were taking cover in the few mostly intact buildings still standing in the ruins. 

There were no scouts, no patrols, and no sentries keeping an eye on the incredibly dense forest around them, Shamir reported, and Beleth almost rolled her eyes at their targets’ arrogance or stupidity. 

Perhaps they were simply hoping that the thick vegetation and the easy-to-miss ruins would conceal their presence from any pursuers? 

Regardless, Beleth wasn’t going to take any chances on this being a trap. She’d asked Shamir to circle around the back of the village to see if there had been any ambushes set up, as they were walking right into the enemy’s doorstep and the brigands were much more familiar with the territory than they were. 

The thicket leading up to the village was unkempt and wild; shrubs, branches, and scores of thick vines weaving a heavy tapestry of vegetation that Beleth ordinarily would have asked Byleth to carve through. The class’s only saving grace was, ironically, the bandits and the rough path they had hacked and stomped through this madness, leaving a trail of flattened grass and dirt roughly shodden by countless boots and framed by the remains of crudely hacked tree limbs and shrubbery. 

They walked in single file, with Beleth at the lead, and again she found herself looking back at her students as concern rippled through her. Raphael was making a commendable effort to keep himself quiet, but Beleth still stopped herself from wincing whenever his armor rattled or when he tromped over a particularly large branch with a sharp snap even though her own legs were just as noisy. Lysithea’s complaints about her armor digging into her body certainly didn’t help, although the girl had quieted down significantly and was making herculean efforts to steel herself. Even Hilda had stopped griping some time ago, and Lorenz was surprisingly stoic as he slogged forward. Leonie was the only one managing to be quiet, along with Claude, the duo scanning the thickets around them. 

“Ah!” Ignatz, who was right behind Beleth, whispered as his sword snagged on another vine dangling from a nearby tree, making vegetation rustle and metal rattle as he fought to free the weapon. 

Beleth drew her sword, black steel whispering against oiled leather, and sliced through the vine, its serpentine length smacking Ignatz on the head before hitting the ground in a dull thump. 

“Pay attention to your equipment,” she told her students in a hushed voice as she sheathed her weapon. “I know this vegetation is difficult to move through, but keep following the trail that the bandits so kindly left for us.” 

“Are you sure this isn’t a trap?” Claude pointed out once more, his green eyes grim and calculating. “The bandits had to know someone would be after them sooner or later.” 

“I don’t know, but Shamir hasn’t reported anything worrying,” Beleth answered. “We are going to advance cautiously, however, given that our targets know this place better than we do.” 

Although, nobody ever accused the average bandit of being smart. Maybe this band was simply so certain of their thick, near-impenetrable forest cover that they felt safe in being lazy? 

“Good decision, Teach,” Claude nodded approvingly, and the class continued forward. “I can see why the bandits only took coin purses and smaller valuables from the convent donations; I’d hate to try to haul anything large through this.” 

Beleth nodded as well. “Stay alert. When we get out of this path, spread out a bit, but stick together, and start searching for the targets.” 

Grim nods all around, and Beleth could see apprehension and fear shining in several pairs of the eyes- children's eyes- staring back at her. A part of her whispered that she could make them stay here and wait as she put their targets to the sword on her own, but her more professional side quashed the idea instantly. 

“I greatly dislike this,” Sothis appeared at her side, but Beleth was used to the woman’s tendency to randomly emerge like this. “These children do not need to bloody their hands like the church is demanding that they do.” 

_“They will have to learn how to fight, one way or another,”_ Beleth replied. _“I will protect them, however, no matter what.”_

It was strange to feel such a protective urge around these kids, but Beleth couldn’t quite explain why she was willing to go to such lengths for a band of children she’d barely known for a month. Maybe it was their youth? 

“I agree with you,” Sothis said with a stoic nod. “We will protect these urchins, together! You have my power at your disposal but do remember not to overdo it!” 

“Right,” Beleth murmured aloud as the group continued walking forward. 

“See? Professor agrees with me! We’re going to be fine!” Raphael’s voice boomed behind her, nearly making her jump. 

Apparently, she’d just answered a question that she hadn’t heard him ask. 

“Just remember what I told you: obey my commands on the battlefield and stay close to me,” Beleth could see a break in the trees ahead, and she eased her sword from its scabbard for a second time, the weight of the black steel familiar and welcome. 

She pushed away the thoughts of traps and convents, of strange churches and the stranger people who ran it and delved into the deep depths of killing calm that turned her into the empty, emotionless Demon feared by much of Fodlan. 

The clanking of her legs lay forgotten as she stomped forward, blade in hand, and she heard her students hurriedly drawing their weapons behind her. 

“Marianne, I want you and Lysithea stay behind me,” she said to the Deer’s two mages. 

“Y-yes, Professor!” 

“Alright!” 

They burst through the opening in the trees and Beleth immediately took stock of their targets. 

Like Shamir had said: the crumbling ruins of a village lay sprawled in the clearing before them, slowly being devoured by the forest around it. The center of the clearing was a large hill upon which a once-grand two-story home had been built, perhaps for the village elder or someone equally important, while the remains of farms and smaller wooden houses lay in shambles at the base of the hill. The large house had collapsed in on itself on its left side, leaving the right mostly intact despite the empty windows, broken and rotted shutters, and the peeling, faded paint covering it. Stalks of corn grew without restraint all over the ruins along with a few other crops she couldn’t quite identify, and Beleth could see several small trees sprouting from inside rotting homes here and there. 

And like Shamir had also said: there were no sentries that Beleth could see, aside from a pair of bandits digging through a bunch of corn. Three more were lounging around the entrance to the half-collapsed grand house, but none of them appeared to be carrying weapons while they counted their spoils. 

Sloppy. 

“Claude, what do you think?” she asked the head of her class. “Where do you think the rest of the bandits are hiding?” 

He ran a critical eye over their quarry, actually snorting as he pulled an arrow from its quiver and spun it between his fingers. “Teach, I’m not seeing any hiding. My guess is they’re in the large house up there since it’s the only one that seems mostly intact.” 

“That would be my guess,” Beleth nodded in agreement. “I don’t think they’ll come out unless their cover is destroyed.” 

“What do you want to do?” Lorenz asked, frowning at the ruins. 

“Retrieving the goods is secondary,” Beleth answered. “Eliminating the targets remains our priority, and so we must lure them out. You and Lysithea know fire spells, do you not?” 

“P-professor, you want us to burn them out?!” Lysithea yelped. “We could set this entire place ablaze!” 

“Yeah, Teach, I’m not too keen on starting a forest fire today,” Claude said with an uneasy shifting of his feet. “Maybe something less... pyromaniacal?” 

“I can control the blaze, and it’s just to drive the bandits out of hiding,” Beleth assured him. “I’ve done this many times before.” 

“I believe you,” Lorenz stepped forward, murmuring an incantation as flames flared between his fingers. “Where shall I aim?” 

“Target the upper floors first, see if they catch,” Beleth answered. 

“Yes, Professor,” Lysithea did the same, and the duo chanted almost as one. 

Arcane symbols flared around a magic circle before their palms, light pulsing as twin orbs of rippling flames shot out with a popping noise. The bandits lounging before the house jumped up with alarmed shouts as the bolts splattered across the ruined walls with a loud crash. 

“We’re under attack!” 

“Where are they?!” 

“There! The bastards are at the path!” 

The flames didn’t catch, unfortunately, but several bricks did dislodge from the upper floor and nearly crush the head of the fool standing beneath them. The bandit yelped and dove to the side, scrambling away on all fours like an insect as his fellows dashed into the house to either alert their allies or to retrieve their weapons. Perhaps both. 

The two bandits who’d been in the corn had disappeared, perhaps hiding in the ruins elsewhere, and Beleth made a mental note to eliminate them, first, lest they ambush one of her students. 

“Try again, you two: aim for the windows and try to get your shots into the house,” Beleth instructed her flame-wielding students, who nodded and chanted once more. 

Lorenz shot wide, his bolt splattering a few feet from an open window and scorching the peeling and rotting paint. Lysithea, on the other hand, hit true, with her fireball shattering glass before disappearing into the house with a faint boom. 

“Nice shot!” Ignatz said excitedly, which made Lysithea preen a bit and raise her head in triumph. 

“It’s catching,” Claude pointed out as Lysithea’s target began to glow orange-red. “Good work, little Lysi.” 

“Don’t call me that!” 

“Eyes up,” Beleth ordered, and the kids quieted immediately. “Raphael and Hilda up here with me. Lysithea and Marianne behind.” 

They obeyed, eyes burning into Beleth. 

“Claude and Leonie: you’ll cover the wings. Keep an eye on those ruins and keep your bows ready. Ignatz, you keep your own bow handy and cover them if someone charges out. All of you pick your targets and take them down if you can.” 

Three archers and three offensive mages made the class incredibly deadly at range, but they needed to be versatile enough to fight in close quarters as well. 

“Lorenz, I want you to hang back and protect them,” Beleth continued. “There were two bandits in the corn, but they vanished after we opened fire. Everyone keep an eye out for them and do not- _I mean do not_ \- hesitate if you find them.” 

Hesitation was death. 

“I will keep my own eyes open,” Sothis declared, frowning as something popped and cracked from inside the large house. “It sounds like your little fireball is starting quite the blaze.” 

The fiery light was spreading, from what Beleth could see from the windows, and she could now faintly make out the sounds of voices shouting from inside. Small gouts of smoke were beginning to puff out of the ruins, as well. 

“Your spells are as potent as ever, Lysithea,” Beleth said to the youngest of her students. “Good work.” 

“Of course, Professor,” she said with a satisfied grin. “I aim to excel, like always.” 

“Come,” Beleth led the way towards the hill, her legs ripping through vegetation with ease as she stomped forward. 

Raphael hefted his spike-fitted gauntlets and rubbed them together, making the metal scrape loudly. 

“Don’t do that!” Hilda hissed, stooping to retrieve the axe she’d dropped. “Almost made me drop my axe on my feet!” 

“Sorry...” Raphael coughed, his weapons shifting as if he were fiddling with the grips inside of them. 

Beleth heard something rustling to the side and froze, her arm snapping out on instinct as the spell left her lips. 

“Waagh!” a strangled yelp rewarded her efforts, and Beleth reeled in her catch. 

The bandit she’d snared floated forward in an aura of pale magic, cursing as much as she could despite the prison keeping her restrained. 

“Whoa, how’d you know she was there?!” Raphael gasped. 

“I listened,” Beleth deadpanned, eyeing the bandit’s equipment. 

Rough, poorly maintained leather was wrapped in furs, but her sword was well cared for, if the gleaming leather of her scabbard said anything. Her short, choppy brown hair was streaked with mud and unkempt, but bandits rarely had time to care about maintaining appearances. 

Beleth reached out with her sword and cut the bandit’s own weapon from its strap, letting it hit the ground with a soft thud before turning her head to Raphael. “This one’s yours, Raph. Just like hitting the dummies, remember?” 

“Stupid...brats!” the bandit hissed. “Let me...go!” 

Raphael hesitated, predictably, and a chorus of shouts was accompanied by a crowd of bandits crashing out of the now-burning manor. 

“Now, Raphael!” Beleth barked. 

She would have to work a large amount of magic if she was to keep the flames contained in the house, which would take a lot of concentration and power. 

An arrow sang overhead, nailing a bandit in the chest and sending him sprawling to the ground. Two more followed, one hitting home in another brigand’s chest and dropping him while the third- Ignatz, probably- bit into a ruined shed several feet away from any of the targets. A fireball from Lorenz streaked after the shafts, catching another bandit in the chest and making him tumble onto his face. 

“I gotta do it,” Raphael lifted his right gauntlet and swallowed. “I’m sorry.” 

His powerful arm roared forward and slammed into the bandit’s chest with a loud crack of metal on bone, the blades on the gauntlet punching through leather, hide, and flesh with ease. The bandit choked, blood dribbling from the sides of her mouth, and Beleth let her fall to the earth with a meaty thud. 

“No hesitation,” Beleth said, but she found her voice softening as she looked at the torn expression on her student’s face. “It will be okay. Breathe and focus on surviving. Trust in me.” 

Raphael nodded, swallowing again as flesh squelched when he pulled his weapon from the corpse. “Yeah, Prof.” 

“Lysithea, Marianne: do you have a shot?” Beleth eyed the bandits rushing towards them, dirty bodies crashing through the growth while many took cover in more ruined buildings. 

“Yes, Professor,” dark energy made Beleth’s fine hairs stand on end as an orb of unnatural purple light streaked past her before detonating against the face of a larger bandit wearing dirty priest robes. 

The man screamed and tumbled forward through the burst of purple/black smoke and energy, the pale light that had been forming on his fingers fading. He hit the ground and rolled head over feet for a bit before going still in a dark lump. 

“Marianne?” Beleth watched the onrushing bandits warily, watching as two more dropped with arrows in them. 

“I...I don’t know if I can...” her meekest student stammered. 

“Then stay close,” Beleth ordered. 

It wouldn’t be good to push the girl, she sensed, at least not until she built up some confidence and self-worth. Trying to make her kill now... 

“Come on!” Lysithea snapped, lobbing another Miasma at the bandits. “You can’t just hide behind everyone forever, Marianne!” 

Her shot hit home and sent her target flying off of their feet before crashing into a tree trunk. 

“Ignatz, steady your aim!” Beleth heard Leonie chide behind her. “You’re going to hit the professor at this rate if you don’t calm down!” 

“S-sorry!” came the boy’s yelp, followed by the weak twang of a bow. 

His arrow went wide, smashing through a window with the ear-grating crash of broken glass. 

“Are you even trying, Ignatz?” Lorenz demanded, followed by a chant that ended with a ball of fire splattering against the side of a rotted wagon. “Uh...I thought I gave it my all...” 

The wagon collapsed in a flurry of rotting wood and dust, but the two bandits who’d been hiding behind it broke their cover to charge Beleth’s group. 

“Hilda! Raphael!” she barked. “Take them!” 

“Do I have to?!” Hilda moved, regardless, taking up a defensive stance alongside Raphael. 

“Yes. The fire is starting to spread. I need to contain it!” Beleth watched Claude and Leonie both drop another target and quickly glanced around to get a general view of the battlefield. 

The manor was now engulfed in a raging inferno set by one Lysithea von Ordelia, burping flames from its windows and numerous holes as thicker black smoke began to pour into the sky. Even from this far down the hill, Beleth could feel the waves of heat coming off the blaze as something crashed and exploded from within the ruins. Tongues of flame were licking outwards, seeking more kindling to add to the roaring blaze. 

The surviving bandits were either ducking for cover or trying to encircle Beleth’s group while trying to avoid taking a bolt of magic or an arrow in the face. 

“This is your fault for making me do this!” Hilda yelled, followed by the crunch of her axe gouging through flesh and bone. “Ugh! Gross! You bled all over me!” 

“We’re losing to a buncha kids?!” a bandit spluttered, lifting his head out from behind the fallen tree he was using for cover. “How?!” 

An arrow promptly sprouted from his neck and dropped him like a sack of potatoes. 

“Bullseye!” Claude chuckled. 

“Pay attention, Claude!” Lorenz snapped, drawing Beleth’s attention as he chanted and sent a fireball into a bandit’s arm. 

The man’s ratty clothes caught immediately, making him scream and run away while Lorenz chanted again to finish him off. The noble’s hands sparked and he hunched over with a grunt. 

“Out of magic already?!” he spluttered. “Impossible! I am Lorenz Hellman Gloucester! I am better than this!” 

The burning bandit was still screaming as he flailed about in a desperate attempt to put out the blaze consuming him, but to no avail. Leonie and Claude shared a concerned look as the bandit then threw himself onto the ground and rolled with a manic energy, screaming and crying out for mercy all the while yet accomplishing nothing. 

“Uh, should we do something about that?” Leonie asked, wincing as their target screamed again. 

“Way ahead of you,” Claude drew back an arrow on his bow and took careful aim before sending the shaft into the back of the burning bandit. 

He stopped screaming and went still, Beleth quickly erecting a smaller bubble of gravity around him to douse the flames eating away at his flesh before they could catch anything else ablaze. 

That done, Beleth reached deep into her reserves of magic and lifted both arms, picturing a shell of gravity encircling the burning and rapidly-collapsing manor. Her gut tugged and tightened as she chanted, and a shimmering aura encased the manor as the words flowed forth. 

The flames that had been coursing out of the wreckage halted as they hit the barrier, and Beleth poured more power into her chanting. Even the smoke changed direction and streaked down to its source. 

An arrow that was decidedly not from her students whipped inches over her head, disappearing into the corn. 

“Find that archer!” she barked, pressing down harder on the burning house. 

Walls collapsed in a storm of cracking and groaning as if flattened by a massive invisible hand, with even the dust and ash being slapped down to the earth as the orange flames guttered out en masse. 

“What the fuck is that?!” a man screamed. “How is she doing that?!” 

“Shoot her!” 

A bandit in ratty robes emerged from her hiding spot and raised her palm towards Beleth, her mouth forming the words for a spell as flames flared to life between her fingers. 

“Gotcha!” Claude shouted. 

“Professor! Look out!” came Ignatz’s own cry, and two arrows slammed into the bandit mage’s throat and stomach. 

She dropped, doubling over before falling face-first into a clump of overgrown weeds. 

“Good shot, boys!” Beleth called, her concentration on maintaining her spell fracturing when Hilda screamed. “Hilda!” 

“No!” Marianne yelled, Beleth’s head snapping over to where Hilda was stumbling away from a sword-wielding bandit, clutching at her stomach. 

Marianne thrust out with her hand and light erupted around the brigand, slapping him into a tree with a sharp _crack_ before he fell to the ground, lifeless. 

“Sothis!” Beleth yelled, reaching for the specter hovering at her side. 

“Hold it!” the green-haired woman danced out of her grasp, pointing at Hilda. “Look again.” 

Beleth obeyed, the tight coil of her muscles relaxing at the sight of the pink-haired noble pawing at the unbroken armor she’d been complaining about wearing. 

“I’m okay, Professor!” she called over. “Ugh! That was terrifying! You’d better make up for this, later!” 

“Not usually a good demand to make of your teacher, is it?” Claude called down, spinning an arrow in his fingers before expertly nocking it and sending it shrieking into the back of a bandit who’d been attempting to flee into the forest. “I bet you’re glad Teach got us all fitted for armor, now, huh?” 

“The fire!” Sothis reminded Beleth. “You mustn’t let it get out of control.” 

Beleth turned her attention back to the crushed remains of the manor, which were indeed becoming host to feeble flames that could easily spread to devour the ample sustenance the class was battling within. The shell of gravity formed again around the ruins, further flattening the wreckage and smashing the flames against the earth to snuff them out. 

Her gut tightened from channeling so much power, and Beleth’s arms were beginning to shake from the effort of directing the magic, but the blaze appeared to be on its last legs. 

“Ha!” Raphael yelled from nearby, his voice followed by a blow and the sound of a body crashing into something and shattering it. “Alright! I can do this! I gotta be a knight!” 

“Bah! Who the hell sent _kids_ after us?!” a bandit complained. “We raided a fucking convent, for fuck’s sake!” 

“Yer complainin’?!” another one of the few surviving brigands spluttered. “We’re getting' our arses handed to us and yer complainin’ that they’re kids?!” 

Lysithea yelped, and again Beleth spun to face her student. 

“Nobody move or the kid gets it!” a bigger bandit had his arm wrapped around Lysithea’s small form, the other holding a knife to her throat. “Drop yer weapons now!” 

The second man who’d been hiding in the corn! Beleth had hoped he’d been killed in the fighting, but...damn it! 

“Do you think I am so helpless?!” Lysithea seethed, magic crackling around her fingers. 

The bandit promptly dug the knife deeper into her pale flesh, Beleth’s body coiling tightly at the sight of a bead of blood forming on the girl’s neck. 

“Keep yappin’ and I’ll cut yer head off, girlie!” the man growled. “If I die, I’ll at least take one o’ you brats with me!” 

“You don’t have to die, you know,” Claude said smoothly, his voice carrying through the ruins. “Surrender and we’ll let you walk away.” 

The big corn bandit snorted. “You think I’m stupid, boy?! We’re surrounded by the Knights o’ Seiros and one of the goddess-damned Demon Twins is standin’ here! We lower our weapons an’ we’re all as good as dead!” 

“You’re dead for certain if you keep fighting,” Claude retorted, but a tiny hint of wavering entered his voice. “If you surrender, you have a chance to keep your lives. I imagine that’s better than dying at the hands of Beleth Eisner.” 

“The Demon!” another bandit whimpered. “It _is_ her! She’ll devour our souls!” 

“Her brother’s probably watching us right now!” 

“That monster?!” 

“We’re dead! We’re all gonna die!” 

Typical. One mention of Beleth or her brother and the targets panic like always. Panic could make one do stupid things, and stupidity could be quite unpredictable. 

“Like hell!” the man menacing Lysithea did the dumbest thing he possibly could. 

He cut a crimson line across her throat, her scream turning into a pained gurgle as her sliced windpipe filled with blood. 

“ _Now_ we turn back time,” Sothis intoned, and the world froze in a dark void. “How far back do you want to go?” 

Beleth examined the frozen scene before her, eyes boring into the ugly, brutish face of the brigand who’d just killed her brightest and likely most powerful student. “Back before he grabbed her. I want to see where he comes from.” 

“And so it shall be,” Sothis’s unusual symbol glowed bright gold and time began to rewind around them, playing the battle in reverse until it halted with Lysithea’s would-be killer emerging from a clump of insect-ravaged corn stalks several paces behind the snowy-haired girl. 

Everything snapped back into focus, the eerie silence shattered by voices. 

“Yer complainin’?!” a bandit was snapping. “We’re getting' our arses-” 

“Behind you, Lysithea!” Beleth disregarded the fire-feeding wreckage she was supposed to be crushing and directed her magic at the corn bandit instead, lashing him in place. 

Lysithea yelped and spun, turning her assailant’s face into a starburst of blood, gore, and bone shards as she _shattered_ his head with a blob of dark magic. 

“Well, that was disturbing,” Sothis muttered as the mangled corpse thudded to the ground, sans head and watering the ground with brain matter. “Satisfying, yes, but also quite disturbing.” 

“Holy shit!” one of the surviving brigands spluttered. “That kid just vaporized Grey!” 

Beleth moved to interpose herself between the now-trembling Lysithea and any of the other bandits, but Raphael beat her to the punch. His massive, black-armored frame presented a wall between his small classmate and the bandits, one that even Beleth would have a hard time cracking if she didn’t use her magic or her legs. 

“Stay behind me, little sis!” he declared, blissfully unaware of the death glare he was receiving. “I’ll protect ya!” 

Good. Beleth let a small amount of tension release from her body, right as she heard someone rushing up behind her. 

“Teach, look out!” 

“Professor!” 

She spun, her right leg swinging upwards and the claws she used for climbing sliding out of their niches. Metal closed around a head of messy brown hair, his scream muffled as Beleth slammed him hard into the ground. She yanked her leg to the side, hearing his neck snap, then stomped away from her victim as the claws slid back inside their places. 

“What are you waiting for?” she asked her staring students. “Finish them off.” 

She gestured at the five surviving brigands, who promptly looked at one another with unconcealed terror before throwing down their weapons and raising their arms in surrender. 

“I ain’t dyin’ to one of the Demon Twins,” a man rasped. “You ain’t eatin’ my soul!” 

“I don’t eat souls,” Beleth grunted back. 

“Or do you?” Claude mused, faltering when Beleth raised an eyebrow at him. “Fine, fine. You don’t eat souls.” 

“That’s what she wants you to think!” another bandit yelled. “Then she’ll snap up your soul when you ain’t expecting it!” 

“I had no idea you were that vicious!” Sothis gasped, her shit-eating grin widening when Beleth directed a glare at her. 

“Nice work, Professor, although I think the convent would have preferred retrieving their stolen valuables,” Shamir reappeared like a shadow, making the students by her yelp in alarm. 

“We were told to kill the bandits, not get back stolen goods,” Beleth shrugged. “And I wasn’t going to risk my students’ safety by having them fight room to room in that collapsing house.” 

The Dagdan nodded, a small smile forming on her lips. “A good decision on your part. I would have done the same thing, if I’m being honest, although I don’t think I could pull off the whole ‘flattening the house with magic’ thing.” 

“What will you do with them?” Beleth asked, gesturing at where more Knights were taking the surviving bandits into custody by wrenching their arms behind their backs and tying their wrists together with thick rope. 

“That’s up for the convent to decide,” Shamir shrugged. “They might have them executed for all I know.” 

Beleth shrugged as well. “Doesn’t matter to me. They were just trying to kill my students, so do what you will.” 

“It was good working with you,” Shamir offered a hand, which Beleth automatically shook. “I hope we can do this again.” 

Even through the gloves Shamir wore, Beleth could feel the strength behind the woman’s hand, the calluses lining her lithe fingers. 

“Likewise,” Beleth nodded before letting go. “If you don’t need anything else, we’ll make our way back to the monastery.” 

Shamir turned and strode towards her prisoners, pausing to crouch and pick up the sword that Beleth had cut from a bandit earlier. “Hey, do you want this?” 

Beleth shook her head. “Give it to one of your knights, if you must. Thought it would be a good piece for someone to use.” 

“Got it,” Shamir walked over to an idle Knight and thrust the blade in his hands. “Bring this back with you.” 

“Come,” Beleth said to her students as she looked over them. “We’ll rest in the forest before heading back.” 

“I second that,” Claude nodded. 

No point in having them rest in the aftermath of a battle. 

She led them out of the clearing, glancing back to study their facial expressions. Raphael and Ignatz looked downcast, whereas Hilda was fussing over the blood that stained her black armor and her hair while Marianne sent some healing light into her classmate. Leonie was trying to pump herself up, a grim expression on her face that perfectly mirrored Lorenz, whereas Claude and Lysithea looked calm and composed. 

Or, at least, their faces told that story. Their eyes held concern and barely-restrained fear, but at least Lysithea’s were full of life. 

Beleth looked away before her damnably impeccable memory cursed her with a crystal-clear image of her student dying, her eyes wide in horror and pain as she struggled to breathe through a slit windpipe. 

“We saved her,” Sothis said gently, her fingers interlacing with Beleth’s own. “She’s alive.” 

They walked a bit further down the path before Beleth stopped everyone with a raised hand. “Take a moment to rest and get your wounds looked at.” 

Several of the students sank to the ground immediately, discarding their weapons with heavy sighs. 

“Can I take this armor off? Please?” Lysithea asked, almost begging for the relief. 

“Go ahead,” Beleth nodded. 

Children...she’d made children into killers this day. Children, some of whom were struggling in the process of rapidly removing their heavy umbral steel armor. Metal clanked loudly as it hit the ground, followed by the sighs of relief and clinking of interlocking chain mail rings. 

“I am totally going to use the sauna after this,” Hilda groaned as she rubbed her shoulders and tried to smoothen her sweat-darkened uniform. “Ugh! I smell awful! This is your fault, Professor.” 

“I feel great!” Raphael declared as he flexed his muscles. “You just gotta work out more!” 

“Just walking in this armor is a workout, Raphael,” Claude grunted, carefully removing his nearly-empty quiver and leaning it up against a tree before his lithe fingers began undoing the straps on his armor. 

“At least now I’m one step closer to becoming a real mercenary like Captain Jeralt,” Leonie stretched her arms with a groan. “And like the Professor. That was incredible, by the way, Professor! What you did to contain the fire, I mean!” 

Beleth shrugged, and Sothis squeezed her hand. “I’ve done it before.” 

“That magic is nothing short of spectacular,” Claude nodded, admiration gushing from each controlled word. “You gotta tell me where you learned it, Teach.” 

“I’ve always been able to use it, even as a child,” Beleth said. “Just became a matter of learning how to control it.” 

“Intriguing,” Lysithea murmured, currently wrestling with the straps of her own black plating. “Why won’t this stupid thing come undone?!” 

Sothis let go of her hand as Beleth clanked over to her youngest student and tugged on the buckles keeping her straps in place. “You didn’t undo the buckles. Would you like me to do so?” 

Lysithea’s scream echoed in her ears, the girl’s striking eyes wide with fear as her voice was reduced to choking gasps. 

“Yes, please,” she said in a clear, albeit exhausted tone. 

Beleth’s fingers easily undid the buckles and slid the straps from Lysithea’s tiny shoulders, easing the black plate off of her before setting it gently against a nearby log. 

_“Take care of your equipment and it will take care of you, kid.”_

Beleth remembered her father’s words as clearly as if he were standing next to her speaking them. 

“You did well, Lysithea,” she said to the young girl. 

Lysithea looked up at her, her bright violet eyes gleaming with life and pride. “Thank you, Professor! I...didn’t think I’d be able to...” she swallowed and lowered her gaze, “To kill someone.” 

“They would have killed any of you without hesitation,” Beleth said, lifting her gaze to look at her students. “You did what you had to do in order to survive.” 

_They killed you, Lysithea._

“But we stopped them,” Sothis said gently, a ghostly yet warm hand patting the top of Beleth’s head. “Your little deer lives.” 

Those gentle fingers rubbed her head, and Beleth felt Lysithea shift beneath her. She glanced down and saw that she’d unconsciously been doing the same thing to the young girl, her fingers slipping through the girl’s silky white strands. 

Lysithea was leaning into the touch, but quickly jerked forward when Beleth pulled her fingers free. 

“Did you do this every day, Professor?” Ignatz asked, his voice hoarse. “Did you kill people like this?” 

His eyes were so vulnerable, so afraid and filled with guilt. A single wrong word would probably shatter him. 

“Yes,” Beleth walked over to him and squeezed his shoulder, feeling the tension beneath. 

“How do you...I mean...” he shook his head and stared down at his trembling hands. “I killed someone.” 

What was she supposed to say? That it got easier? That he should just focus on training while ignoring the lives that he took? 

“They were stealing from the church and the Goddess,” Marianne murmured. “Maybe this was the Goddess’s will?” 

“Like I said before: you did what you had to in order to survive,” Beleth said, raising her voice so it filled the forest. “Those bandits wouldn’t have hesitated to kill you, and you saw what they did to L- to Hilda.” 

“That really hurt!” Hilda said, absently rubbing her abdomen. “As much as I hate wearing that armor, it really did its job.” 

“If you weren’t, you’d be dead on the ground with a blade in your gut,” Beleth deadpanned. 

She didn’t want to remember that. 

She needed to be more vigilant in the future, for the days when Sothis couldn’t come with her to the battlefield. Byleth was strong, yes, but he needed Sothis and their bond with her more than Beleth did. 

“You are both fools at times, but I do so love you,” Sothis declared, Beleth jolting when the spectral woman’s soft lips pressed against her cheek. 

_“I love you, too, Sothis.”_

Aloud, Beleth said “Alright, we’ll rest for a half hour before we head back to the convent. From there we’ll be returning to Garreg Mach, and I fully expect you all to have an updated goal plan that you would like to follow since the first of your certification exams is next week.” 

She looked over her kids one more time. “And if anyone needs to talk, my door is always open to you. Please do not hesitate to find me.” 

“Yes, Professor!” her class chorused almost as one, and Beleth clenched her fists as Lysithea died before her again in her mind’s eye. 

Never again. She would protect them all, no matter who she had to fight. 

Even if it was this Church of Seiros trying to kill them, Beleth would fight until the bitter end. 


	11. New Lessons and Discoveries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had no clue what to call this chapter, just went with something vague, if I'm being honest.

Something had happened at the convent, something that Beleth didn’t want to talk about. Byleth could see that his sister was watching her students much more closely than she had been before, even inviting the kids to eat with her several times throughout the course of the day. 

His sister had always had an iron stomach and an inhuman appetite, but Byleth was quietly impressed at how easily she was able to devour numerous meals just for the sake of spending more time with her students. 

Sothis wasn’t telling him anything, either, stating that “It’s Beleth’s to tell, not mine. Now shut up and let me look at you. Heavens forfend, I actually missed seeing your face!” 

The spectral woman was currently sitting next to Byleth, leaning her head on his shoulder and letting the contact fuel their shared eyesight. It was surprising how much he had missed her touch, let alone her griping. 

“Alright, Belle, what happened during your mission?” Jeralt broke the silence surrounding the trio as they sat on the docks, listening to the rushing of the waterfall gushing from the aqueduct. “You’ve been spending all the free time you can get recently with your students, and you don’t normally hover like that.” 

It was early morning, and the trio were the only ones at the pond while the monastery slowly came awake around them. There was banging and shouting from the kitchens as the cooks slaved away over breakfast, and a few passing guards or staff called out greetings as they passed by the pond. 

Beleth didn’t answer immediately, hauling on her fishing rod and yanking a large Fodlan Carp from the pond and chucking it into her basket. “Is it so wrong of me to want to better understand my students? The more familiar I am with them, the better I can shape their lessons and training routines to suit them.” 

She was being cagey, and Sothis tensed at Byleth’s side before closing her eyes. He was plunged in darkness yet again, about to mentally ask her if she was upset when Sothis loosed a deep, long-suffering exhale before opening the world back up to both of them. 

“Did you have to, you know, go back?” he asked his sister. 

Jeralt remained silent, not even reacting to his rod bending as something snatched his bait. He knew about Sothis’s ability to rewind time, of course, and he’d long since given up on trying to question how the hells she did it. Usually, her explanations-translated by Byleth- ended up with the grizzled mercenary getting drunk because he claimed his head was starting to hurt. 

Sothis looked at Beleth, whose eyes were a thousand years away as she stared at the ripples spreading across the pond’s surface. 

“Yes,” the twin answered, her voice tight. 

“Was it that white-haired brat?” Jeralt rumbled, flinching as his bait was ripped off the line and his rod whipped upwards at the loss of tension. “Ah! Gods damn it!” 

“What makes you think that?” Byleth asked. 

He hadn’t noticed any favoritism specifically aimed at...Lysithea, was it? Then again, he couldn’t always see whatever his sister was doing with her students. 

Being blind was awfully inconvenient. 

“You are correct,” Beleth said softly, her voice almost lost behind the crashing of the waterfall. “A bandit I thought was dead came out of hiding and took Lysithea hostage. Before I could stop him or convince him to surrender, he cut her throat.” 

Jeralt winced, reaching out with a large hand and rubbing his daughter’s back. “Ah, kid, that’s, uh...I can’t imagine it was easy seeing that. It was a good thing you took _her_ with you.” 

“I can still see her dying,” Beleth whispered. 

Right...her impeccable memory. 

“We saved your little misfit, but I’m afraid I cannot make that memory disappear,” Sothis said softly, her breath puffing against Byleth’s neck. “I dislike seeing you agonize over it.” 

Beleth said nothing as she set her rod back in the closest barrel and rose, her legs rattling loudly at the movement. “There is nothing to be done. Byleth, I would like you to join me for today’s lesson.” 

“Certainly. What do you need me to do?” Byleth asked as he, too, stood. 

Sothis mirrored his movements perfectly, her fingers going to his neck to maintain their skin-to-skin contact. His shoulders were aching a bit, as they were wont to do sometimes from the heavy metal connected to them, but he pushed through the pounding hot waves. 

“Are you uncomfortable?” the specter asked, worry in her voice as she gave him another of the unusual disembodied views of himself. 

Just one of the weird consequences of seeing through someone else’s eyes. 

“I need you to climb on the beams on the ceiling,” Beleth said before Byleth could answer Sothis. “Jump down when I give you the signal and grab four of the students with your arms.” 

Byleth raised an eyebrow at his sister, then remembered that she wouldn’t see it through his blindfold. “Why?” 

“A lesson in situational awareness,” Beleth answered. “They need to examine their surroundings closely no matter where they are.” 

“Brought on by Lysithea, I take it,” Jeralt shook his head from nearby. “Don’t go crazy, alright?” 

“I quite like this idea!” Sothis said with a mischievous chuckle, turning her gaze from Jeralt back to Beleth. 

“Alright. What’s the signal?” Byleth asked. 

“You’ll know it. A phrase,” his sister answered. “It’ll be rather obvious.” 

Cryptic yet at the same time it wasn’t. Fun. 

“Well, you kids have fun scaring the shit out of the Golden Deer,” Jeralt grunted as he put up his own rod. “I got a crap ton of paperwork to do. Makes me remember what I hate the most about this damn job.” 

“Sorry, father,” Byleth said. 

Jeralt grunted and walked away, his armor clinking with each step. 

“Let us be off!” Sothis declared. “We have some children to terrify!” 

Byleth frowned in her direction. “Sothis, you’re enjoying this a little too much.” 

“Am I not allowed to have fun?” she asked with a light laugh. “I suppose I could start lifting objects and pretending that I am a ghost as I did when we were younger.” 

“The Ghost of Garreg Mach,” Byleth mused. “It does have a ring to it.” 

Beleth snorted, the closest thing either of them had to a laugh. 

“Oh, hush!” Sothis hissed, jabbing his cheek with one of her slender fingers. “I will dump a bucket of water upon you if it strikes my fancy!” 

“Oh no, what a nightmare,” Byleth grunted, his lips twitching in a smile as Sothis poked him again. 

“Hey, Professor Eisner!” A rather dashing female knight was striding towards them, a strange sword bobbing on her waist with each step she took. “Lady Rhea wants to see you!” 

She was muscular and obviously a veteran warrior, her sandy hair tied back into a short ponytail and a shoulder cape clasped around her neck. Her eyes were friendly enough, but there was a cautious light in her irises that spoke of a ready willingness to kill whoever she needed to. 

“You are?” Byleth asked as Sothis looked the knight up and down, lingering on the unusual blade she was carrying. 

There were a few smaller prong-like blades protruding from the scabbard, and that material...was it bone or something? 

“I’m Catherine, one of the Knights of Seiros,” the knight beamed, holding a fist over her heart. “I’ve heard a lot about you from Lady Rhea and my partner, Shamir.” 

“Oh, Shamir is your partner?” Beleth asked. “She is a skilled scout and archer.” 

Catherine nodded with a friendly grin. “The best! She’s gotten me out of more scrapes than I can even count! Not a big drinker, though, so maybe one of you will join me someday?” 

“Father might be better suited for that,” Byleth shrugged, making his arms rattle. “I’ll go to your classroom as you asked, sister. Give Lady Rhea my best.” 

He hadn’t received any instructions for the day, but he was certain that Seteth or his sister would come along eventually and provide some task or another. The advisor was quick to make use of Byleth’s inhuman strength and the flexibility of his metal arms and it was still early. 

“Just remember what I told you,” Beleth warned before she marched off with Catherine, her metal legs probably waking up the rest of the monastery. 

“Come! Come!” excitement was bleeding through Sothis’s every word as she grabbed his hands, plunging him into a blurred sea of bleeding colors, and started trying to drag him forward. “We must not squander this opportunity!” 

She was far more eager for this ‘lesson’ than expected. It made his lips curve into a ghost of a smile, especially as she tugged him along like a child pulling a parent forward. 

A few voices called greetings to him as he trailed in Sothis’s wake, and he hurried to respond without biting his own tongue in his haste to keep up with his invisible friend. The thought made him pause. 

Friend? Sothis was so much more than just a friend. There was a warmth that filled him when he thought of her, when they walked together or when she saw something that made her happy or excited, like this. She was family, someone he cared deeply for. 

“Good! None of the other urchins have arrived yet!” Sothis declared, tugging Byleth forward in the murkiness. “Up you go! Up!” 

“Going to need your help,” Byleth reminded her. “I can’t see the beams. Not when our skin isn’t touching, remember?” 

“Split your arms. I will ride on your back,” she commanded. 

Byleth obeyed, metal rattling as his arms separated into four, with two of them slithering down behind him to hold Sothis. She climbed upon his back, the world exploding to life through her eyes as her slender arms wrapped around his neck. The thick beams crisscrossed the ceiling about twenty feet above the ground, some of them hosting intricate veils of spiderwebs. 

His lower arms caught her thighs and held her upright, keeping her solidly in place as her eyes swung upwards. 

“There! That should do nicely,” her words breezed into his ear, her bushy hair scratching his neck and making him shudder involuntarily. “I know we were separated for barely a few days, yet it made me miss you quite keenly. I have grown too accustomed to being with you, it would seem.” 

A sense of fullness and completion trickled through him, along with Sothis’s happiness at being able to walk with him again. And be carried by him. 

“I missed you, too,” Byleth answered, the full weight of those words playing upon his tongue as he extended his remaining arms to scale the wall while Sothis rode him piggyback style. 

He swung upwards on his metal limbs, guided by Sothis’s sight as he grabbed the closest beam and hauled himself onto it. He could climb almost anything with these arms, and probably would if he had Sothis with him. 

Come to think of it, why was he carrying her? She could have just floated up alongside him while he’d climbed. 

“I’m looking forward to this,” the spectral woman snickered as Byleth settled himself onto the beam, easing himself over the desks below to pounce on his unsuspecting victims once Beleth gave him the signal. 

She let go of him and climbed off his back, keeping a hand against his neck to facilitate their shared sight and emotions. 

“I can tell,” he would have to keep quiet from this point forward, lest he give himself away. 

Sothis, on the other hand, had no such qualms. 

“Those urchins handled themselves as well as one could expect for their first real battle,” she mused, reaching down with her free hand and tugging at one of the white ribbons tied around her legs. “That Claude boy, however, is hiding much more than Beleth thinks. He is quite skilled for one so young! It makes me wonder just who he really is.” 

Her gaze went to Beleth’s book and paper-laden desk, then to the empty chalkboard sitting next to it. 

“I must say: this is the first time we’ve been in here for one of your sister’s lessons, is it not?” Sothis continued, her lithe fingers rubbing lightly against the skin on Byleth’s neck. “I wonder what it is that she teaches her little herd of deerlings.” 

_“Tactics, weapon and armor maintenance, that sort of thing, maybe,”_ Byleth shrugged, switching to his internal voice. 

He could hear voices coming from outside, students stirring and trickling into their morning classes. 

“Ingrid, do you have today’s homework? I completely forgot it.” 

“Come on, Sylvain! You can’t just copy off of me!” 

“Not my fault Hanneman is so boring! I hear Professor Eisner is much more interesting.” 

There was a scoff. “You just think she’s more interesting because she’s a woman. Honestly, if you keep going on about how attractive and eye-catching she is...” 

“What? She is!” The young man spluttered. “Have you seen her face? No makeup at all and yet she’s absolutely gorgeous!” 

“It appears I have a new miscreant to keep an eye on,” Sothis said in a low, deadly voice. 

“ _You mean_ we _have to keep an eye on_ ,” Byleth corrected her. 

Sothis looked at him, once again giving him an unusual out-of-body view of himself. “I suppose you are correct. With the two of us combined, there is little we cannot do.” 

_“Except swim. Or fly,”_ Byleth mused. 

He watched, and felt, Sothis lightly smack the top of his head with her other hand, despite the amusement flickering through her side of their shared senses as she did so. An impulse rippled through him, and Byleth reached up to press one of his four hands against Sothis’s own, wishing he could feel her with normal flesh and blood instead of lifeless metal. 

“You can, you silly little mortal,” she chided as their shared emotions flickered with amusement, rubbing his neck and his hand with her fingers. “You just cannot feel me with your own fingers.” 

_“That sounds a little strange, Sothis,”_ he mused. _“_ _Me_ _feeling you with my fingers.”_

She swatted him again, and he felt a vague heat from his face, or rather, from hers. “Oh, hush! You know my words had absolutely no inappropriate innuendos in them, so do not pretend otherwise!” 

His lips tugged into the only smile, or the facsimile of one, that he could manage. _“I am merely messing with you, Sothis. Forgive me.”_

“Of course I forgive you, my dear Byleth,” Sothis scoffed, leaning over and pecking his cheek. “How could I not? We have grown up together and none save for Beleth know you better than I! We are bound together for all time!” 

The voices from outside grew in number, and Byleth frowned at the sight of the wide-open classroom door that he’d neglected to shut behind him as Sothis glanced down at it. He’d probably just blown his cover unless those doors being open between lectures was a common occurrence. 

“Do you think Teach’ll be here soon?” Claude von Riegan was the first to enter, followed by Hilda and Marianne. 

“I hope so. I’m curious as to what our mission will be for this month, especially since the Knights of Seiros are setting out to lay siege to a western Kingdom lord’s castle,” Leonie and Lysithea were next, the latter carrying a stack of books that made her desk rattle loudly as she dumped them on its well-worn surface. 

Such big books for such a tiny girl... how did she carry them? 

“I do not know,” Sothis mused, her eyes roaming over their potential victims. 

Which students would be the ones needing Beleth’s lesson the most? 

“Claude! Care to explain why I saw you snooping around Seteth’s office earlier?” Lorenz barged in the classroom, indignity etched across his face as he glared at his rival. “Such behavior is unbefitting of one meant to lead!” 

“Who said I was snooping around Seteth’s office?” Claude asked easily, stretching his arms as he sat down at a desk in the first set. “I could have been leaving the infirmary for a pulled muscle from training, which I was. You can ask Professor Manuela if you want.” 

“I know where I saw you, Claude!” Lorenz retorted, ignoring the last two members of the Golden Deer as the boys shuffled past him to their desks. 

“Whatever you say, Lorenz,” the future duke shrugged, his head swiveling towards the door as the telltale clanking of Beleth’s false legs reached the classroom. 

“We are not done discussing this,” Lorenz hissed as the hellish noise grew louder. 

Beleth stomped into the room, her legs now impossible to ignore as they hammered auditory nails through Byleth’s skull, carrying a sheaf of papers and a thick tome under her arms as she took up position behind her desk. She looked over her students, nodding appreciatively at Lysithea as the white-haired girl opened her notebook and got her inkwell and quill ready. 

“Hey, Teach! How did the meeting with Lady Rhea go?” Claude asked, leaning forward with interest. 

Beleth’s eyes flicked upwards at the beams for the briefest of moments, her lips twitching when Sothis gave her a dainty wave. “We are to follow the Knights of Seiros to Castle Gaspard in the Kingdom and aid them in cleaning up the aftermath of Lord Lonato’s insurrection.” 

“Clean up duty? Why would Lady Rhea put us on clean up duty?” Hilda demanded, slumping face-first against her desk. “I would almost rather fight more bandits!” 

“Lonato is a disgrace to the nobility!” Lorenz scoffed. “Putting his own people in danger with such a fruitless act of terror.” 

“Lady Rhea said she wanted you all to see the futility in turning your blades against the Church and the Goddess,” Beleth said, and the temperature in the room plummeted. “But this will be a practical lesson in seeing the administrative tasks required to facilitate a change of power and authority in a lord’s territory.” 

“At least she is trying to defuse the rather tense atmosphere,” Sothis murmured, her fingers lightly rubbing small circles on Byleth’s neck and making him suppress a shiver. “What is the archbishop thinking, making soldiers of children?” 

“And it would be a fine lesson on how the decisions of nobles can negatively affect the commoners living in their territories,” Leonie piped up. 

“Right,” Claude nodded. “Commoners are always the first to pay the price in war or anything like this.” 

Lorenz huffed. “Indeed! This is why a noble’s first and foremost duty is to the people living under them! One must act like a true noble should to ensure the stability of their territories and their prosperous futures.” 

“Huh, you’re not as bad as I thought you were, Lorenz,” Leonie mused. 

The purple-haired noble balked. “What do you mean by that?! I am a noble, not a blustering fool!” 

“Could have fooled me, especially with your habit of harassing girls around campus,” Lysithea muttered, earning an indignant glare from Lorenz. 

“I have a duty to find the perfect spouse for an heir of House Gloucester!” 

“You have a duty to shut up and listen,” Beleth’s voice knifed through the atmosphere, making her students instantly fall silent. “For today, I would like to congratulate you all on a job well done in regards to our mission. You handled yourselves as well as expected, and I cannot express my relief at how you all emerged unscathed.” 

Neither Sothis nor Byleth missed how the mercenary-turned-professor's eyes lingered on Lysithea just a split second longer than the rest. 

“However, it has become clear to me that we will need to work on your situational awareness,” she continued without hesitation. “After all, if I hadn’t happened to see that bandit emerging from behind Lysithea, it could have very easily been a disaster.” 

“Little hard to be aware of everything when we’re fighting for our lives, Teach,” Claude pointed out, his long fingers tapping some strange rhythm on his desk. 

Beleth nodded. “That is true, and I do not expect you to be aware of every little thing going on around you, but I do want you to keep a closer eye on your surroundings wherever you go, especially on the battlefield.” Her eyes flicked upwards to her hidden brother again as she folded her arms and straightened her back. “After all, something could _drop down_ on you at any time.” 

Ah, that was the signal! 

“Go go go go!” Sothis urged him forward, her glee radiating from her in bright waves. 

Byleth slipped off of the beam and crashed to the floor behind Marianne and Hilda, making both girls shriek in alarm as he wrapped two serpentine arms around their waists and lifted them into the air. Someone else, - Lysithea, maybe? - screamed as glass thunked against wood nearby, and something liquid began plopping against the stone floor. 

“What on earth?!” Lorenz spluttered as a third hand grabbed his spindly shoulder and hauled him up as well. 

Sothis was cackling as she hovered behind Byleth, her arms wrapped around his neck and her breath rustling the top of his head. “Grab the shifty one, too! Quickly!” 

_“I like how you think,_ _Sothie_ _,”_ Byleth’s final arm snapped out towards Claude, snatching him from his chair and sending it crashing to the stone floor as his papers went flying. 

In the space of a heartbeat, Byleth now had four students held captive as the rest scrambled to get away from him, hearing Ignatz yelp as he fell over his desk with a smaller crash. 

“Holy shit, Professor!” Leonie gasped from nearby, exhaling heavily. “Was this really necessary?!” 

“Put me down!” Hilda shrieked, and Byleth could feel her wriggling in his grasp. “Please!” 

“I demand that you release me immediately!” Lorenz commanded, grappling with the metal fingers holding him tight. “This is no way to treat the future head of the Roundtable!” 

Marianne was praying softly but made no move to escape, and Claude was likewise still despite his struggle to calm his breathing. 

“Now do you see what I mean by situational awareness?” Beleth asked. “If my brother had been trying to kill you, we would all likely be dead right now.” 

“But this is a classroom, in the monastery, Professor!” Lysithea spluttered, groaning. “And I got ink all over myself!” 

“Sorry, Lysithea. I didn’t intend for that to happen,” Byleth said in the youngest girl’s direction, but Sothis kept her gaze on Claude. 

“I thought I felt someone else watching me, but how does that work with a blind guy?” the future duke mused, confusion and intrigue warring in his veiled green eyes. “Man, your arms are ridiculously strong! I can’t even move!” 

He tried to wriggle, but the metal coil around his upper body was unrelenting. 

“You can put them down, brother,” Beleth said. 

He obeyed, carefully lowering his captives back to their feet. 

“I was not in the mood for this today!” Hilda griped, her complaints echoed by Lysithea. 

“You made me dump my inkwell all over myself!” the white-haired girl whined. “These stains are going to take forever to get out!” 

“You can take this class off to clean yourself if you want to,” Beleth offered, a hint of embarrassment entering her voice. “I’ll go over the materials with you later.” 

“Thank you, Professor,” Lysithea walked away, her footsteps light and almost impossible to hear. 

“Thank you for assisting me with that lesson, brother,” Beleth said, and Sothis’s eyes swiveled to her. 

“I was glad to help. And I take full responsibility for soiling Lysithea’s clothes with ink,” he added the last sentence when Sothis glanced at the empty desk and the black liquid coating it. 

“I expect you to take responsibility for terrifying both me and Marianne!” Hilda jabbed his side with her elbow, only to wince as flesh and bone met his armored chestplate. “Ow!” 

“That was utterly undignified!” Lorenz spluttered. “Handling myself and two noble ladies in such an uncouth manner!” 

Sothis looked at Marianne for Byleth, and the girl didn’t seem worse for wear aside from a few new wrinkles in her uniform and a few loose strands of hair. “Are you alright, Marianne? I didn’t hurt you?” 

“I am fine,” the girl shook her head, a tiny smile curving her lips. “Th-that was actually, um...kind of fun.” 

“My goodness, she is adorable,” Sothis whispered loudly enough for both twins to hear her. “You must protect this one at all costs. I demand it.” 

_“I second that motion,”_ Byleth nodded. 

“Now, since the main lesson has been administered, why don’t we move on?” Beleth clapped her hands. “Ignatz, if you would pick yourself off the floor and get out the assignment you said you were having difficulties with? And Raphael, I told you before to not bring food into the classroom. It distracts you.” 

“Sorry, prof! The dining hall was serving meat pies today! I couldn’t resist grabbing extra!” 

“S-sorry, Professor!” 

“I think Raph and Ingrid completely destroyed the pies,” Claude muttered. “Never seen someone devour so much food in such a short period of time before.” 

“It was a little scary, if I’m being honest. Did Ingrid even have time to breathe in between the pies she was eating?” Hilda wondered. 

“Hmm? What is this?” Sothis’s attention swiveled to an object on the floor. 

Before Byleth could tell what it was, she removed her hand from his neck and plunged him into darkness as her warmth retreated from him. 

“Ah! One of the young one’s books!” Sothis declared, and a warbling noise reached Byleth’s ears. “It is thoroughly soaked with ink. I actually feel guilty about this.” 

“Um, Teach? Please tell me that’s you doing that,” Claude’s voice, oddly filled with nervous tension, filled Byleth’s ears. 

“Doing what?” Beleth asked, and the warbling stopped. “Hmm? Is that notebook floating?” 

“Floating? Oh!” Sothis’s yelp was followed by the slap of something dropping against the floor. “My goodness! I hadn’t realized I was actually holding that!” 

She must have picked up one of Lysithea’s notebooks, actually handling the object and shaking it dry. 

_“The Ghost of_ _Garreg_ _Mach makes her first appearance,”_ Byleth sent to Sothis, and he heard her huff in response. 

“That wasn’t the Professor, was it?” Raphael asked, his boisterous voice far too loud in the quiet confines of the classroom. “Maybe it was one of those ghosts Mercedes always tells stories about!” 

“I am not a ghost!” Sothis yelled, and Byleth heard her stomp her foot against the floor. “Ow! Stone!” 

“I highly doubt this place has ghosts, Raphael,” Lorenz scoffed. “Those are just superstitions.” 

“Good thing Lysithea isn’t here for this terrifying discovery,” Claude chuckled. 

“Why do you say that?” Hilda asked, curiosity dripping from her voice. “Ooh! Is she scared of ghosts or something? Aw! How cute!” 

“Hilda, that’s rude,” Leonie scolded. 

Beleth sighed, her voice again knifing through the chatter. “All of you, enough. Retake your seats. Ghost or no, we still have a lesson to continue.” 

“I love you dearly, but I hate you sometimes,” Sothis griped, and Byleth felt her small hand briefly slap one of his arms. “Both of you.” 

_“Love you, Sothis.”_

_“I love you too, Sothis.”_

Byleth nodded in what he hoped was his sister’s direction. “If that’s all, sister, then I will be on my way. I’ll find some way to make it up to Lysithea for the ink spill, later.” 

“I recommend candy. The sweeter the better, from what I’ve found,” Beleth answered. “She loves sugary foods.” 

“I will remember that,” Byleth turned towards what he hoped was the door. “Work hard, all of you.” 

“Sure, just don’t do that again, okay?” Leonie spoke up. “You almost made my heart burst in surprise when you jumped down like that.” 

“No promises. If Beleth asks me to startle you again as a lesson, I shall,” Byleth shrugged and walked forward, metal snapping and creaking as his arms joined together into two limbs once more. 

“I am not going to enjoy doing that again,” Hilda muttered. 

“I concur,” came Lorenz’s grumble. “That was most unpleasant.” 

Byleth recalled his internal map of Garreg Mach and strode forward, praying that he wouldn’t trample a student or another staff member in his journey. Maybe he would check on the storehouses? Travis was saying something about break-ins earlier in the week, so per- 

“Stop! Thief!” a voice bayed from the direction of the kitchens. 

“Ooh! Exciting!” Sothis giggled. “Go forth! Apprehend that miscreant immediately!” 

Yeah, sure, why not? 

More voices were shouting from the side, and Byleth jogged in that direction, nearly running face-first into a pillar as he did. 

He heard hurried footsteps dashing away, along with a few items hitting the ground while their owner swore under his ragged breath. 

“Shit! Yuri ain’t gonna let me hear the end o’ this!” the unknown voice gasped as he kept running. “Gotta get outta here!’ 

Byleth pursued the owner of the voice, hearing him drop more of his ill-gotten spoils as he stumbled through the monastery, cursing every which way. 

“Do you see him?” he asked Sothis. 

“Yes!” came her answer. “He is rather scruffy looking, and he has taken a lot of food!” 

“Ah, shit! One o’ the knights is catchin’ up!” his target hissed. 

Byleth dashed forward, trusting Sothis to guide him as he felt her presence nudging him this way or that. 

“Eat shit, asshole!” something splattered against the wall next to Byleth’s head. 

“He threw a tomato at you,” Sothis reported. “How original.” 

The miscreant, as Sothis had called him, was cursing a storm as the pursuit continued, and Byleth briefly wondered how he hadn’t caught up to his target yet. Well, he was blind. Running fast wasn’t exactly a benefit unless Sothis was sharing her sight with him. 

He wasn’t Beleth with her absurdly fast metal legs and gravity magic. 

“Hmm? He went through a hole in the wall, there!” Sothis tugged him forward, making the world flare up in a blurry mess as their hands met. 

“Wait, a hole?” Byleth repeated aloud. 

The blur of the wall did indeed have some black abyss in it, and Byleth cautiously advanced towards it. Something soft was flattened beneath his foot with a squelching noise, making him pause. 

“Tomato,” Sothis informed him. “Watch your step: our miscreant dropped his ill-gotten gains everywhere.” 

“I can’t see, Sothis. Not much, anyway.” 

“It is dark enough to where sight would only be a hindrance. Let us apprehend this hooligan!” she pulled him forward, completely forgetting the other important thing here. 

“I’m not armed.” 

Sothis scoffed. “Of course you are! You have four of them, do you not?” 

Byleth just stared at the green and blue blob tugging on his metal arm. 

“You can just overpower whoever we come across down here,” she continued. “I do not think anyone could best you in unarmed combat. Or four-armed combat.” 

Well, she wasn’t wrong, and standing around here would do nothing aside from giving the thief time to escape. 

“Lead the way,” Byleth yielded, managing to not jump from his skin when Sothis laughed victoriously and pecked him on the cheek. 

“Excellent!” She pulled him forward yet again, dragging him into a chilly, narrow corridor. 

Metal scraped against stone here and there as his arms brushed the tight walls, but still Sothis guided him onwards. The air was musty and stunk of mold, heavy with moisture and punctured by the rattling of Byleth’s metal plates. 

“It is rather cold down here,” she murmured, unease trickling into her voice. 

Byleth nodded in silent agreement, his arm creaking as Sothis pressed herself against his chest for heat. She was warm, and the pressure of their bodies was slight enough to ensure that he didn’t trip over her selectively corporeal form. 

It was odd, he thought, that Sothis could be touched or not depending on her mood or on whatever else it was that influenced her presence. Sometimes she wanted physical contact with them even if the twins’ fingers passed through her like the ghost Byleth was teasing her of becoming. 

“Ah, here we-” Sothis’s excited exclamation died in her throat, followed by a choked laugh. “Oh, this was a bad idea.” 

“Why do you say that?” Byleth could hear more footsteps echoing before him, as if they were standing in a large chamber of sorts. 

“That’s him! The one who was chasing me!” the man from earlier gibbered. “He made me drop all the food I was bringing to everyone!” 

Voices, jeers, the rattling of weapons and armor. 

“Hey there, pal,” a deeper male voice, belying the danger in its friendly tone, called out. “You came to the wrong place.” 

Something hissed and hummed, and Byleth saw a faint red glow in the dark haze of the world around him. 

No, _two_ red glows. 

“Who are they?” he asked softly, crouching into a combat stance as he allowed his instincts and training to take over. 

“Ruffians, perhaps?” Sothis answered, her presence moving around until she was at Byleth’s back. “They are all dressed in grey rags or old armor, save for their leader. He really wishes to show off his muscles, does he not? How is he not cold with his jacket open like that?” 

“He’s not wearing armor?” Byleth mused, hearing more footsteps echoing from ahead. 

“Time to show you what the King of Grappling can do!” his unknown assailant declared. “I’ll pulverize ya!” 

Byleth almost smiled as Sothis’s hand came to rest upon his neck, bringing the world into crystal focus before them. His attacker, a rather handsome man rippling with muscles and a jacket open to expose his toned abdomen, lunged, gripping a pair of glowing weapons eerily similar to beast claws. 

“Shall we, my dear Byleth?” Sothis asked, confidence dripping from every word. 

“Let’s.” 

Arms snapping apart in a crescendo of shrieking metal, Byleth sprinted forward to meet this new foe. 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

“Hmm, now isn’t that interesting?” Claude mused as he entered his room, patting his satchel to ensure that the papers he’d taken from Seteth’s office were still there. 

Oh, Lorenz had almost blown his cover, for sure, but the sudden attack by Teach’s brother and the ensuing lecture appeared to have banished all thoughts of reprimanding Claude from the insufferable noble’s mind for the time being. He shut and locked his door behind him, carefully setting his loot on his desk to avoid damaging it. 

The notes he’d grabbed were old, stuffed at the back of a bookshelf under a bunch of ledgers detailing past donations from notable families and houses, but what was on them had immediately gotten Claude’s attention. 

He hadn’t really known what, exactly, he’d been looking for in the records when he’d made the decision to snoop through Seteth’s office, but this find was just too good to ignore. 

He carefully dug out the sheafs of crumpled paper and set them on his desk, gently smoothing out the creases with his fingers as his eyes roamed over the diagram and the figures displayed on them in handwriting that decidedly wasn’t Seteth’s, probably from Rhea’s previous advisor. 

“Volkhard von Arundel, 5000 gold pieces,” had been inked under a small list of similar donations, and next to that list was a ‘tree’ of lines linking different names together. Names of which many ended in “Hresvelg”. 

One such line from an “Anselma von Arundel” linked to “Emperor Ionius von Hresvelg IX” and beneath them, and several other women, was a lengthy ‘leaf’ of children, all of whose names had been scratched out save for one. That particular name from said leaf, beneath Anselma, had caught Claude’s attention, and he’d grabbed it and the pages beneath it before Lady Luck decided to spit in his face. 

“Edelgard von Hresvelg,” he said slowly, tracing the second line extending from her mother’s name to a ‘branch’ that was far separated from the others. 

That name, too, had been defaced with various marks as if to hide who it was, but there was enough remaining for Claude to just barely make out the last three letters. 

“dyd,” Claude let the nonsensical remains of the word roll off of his tongue. “Now, why does that sound so familiar, I wonder?” 

For some reason, the name ‘Patricia’ had been scribbled above the line linking Anselma to this ‘dyd’ person, and Claude already had quite a theory bubbling up from inside his mind. Especially since all records of Anselma had seemingly vanished after the Insurrection of the Seven. Almost as if she’d been erased from existence. 

“So, Edelgard’s mother took a new name and a new husband, and whoever it was that wrote this might have officiated that new secret marriage,” Claude took a stab at his theory, testing out the words. “To someone whose last name was likely ‘Blaiddyd’.” 

Or maybe this was complete wyvern dung and he was making mountains out of ant hills. Come to think of it, if Edelgard’s mother had married Dimitri’s father, wouldn’t that make them stepsiblings? Maybe that could explain why Dimitri had been so interested in Edelgard since they’d met at the term’s beginning. 

No, Claude shook his head at the outlandish theory: Edelgard had made it clear that she’d never met Dimitri before the monastery, so that shot that train of thought. Unless she was lying? 

“Maybe those letters said ‘dio’ or something,” Claude muttered, scowling at the savaged letters. 

He had a strange mental image of someone pointing at themself and saying “You were expecting Lambert Egitte Blaiddyd, but it was me, Dio!” 

Pfft, so much for that. 

Whoever had done this had apparently wanted to marry this couple in secret, probably because of all the political turmoil going on in the Kingdom with the king’s death and all that, especially since Anselma had been the Emperor’s lover at one point. 

Such a strange eloping would have raised many questions among the Kingdom’s nobility, not to mention the Imperials. Then again, it made sense that the disappearance of one of Ionius’s many concubines may have gone unnoticed or she was deemed unimportant, even if she was Edelgard’s mother. 

Claude shook his head and looked at the papers again, bracing himself for another long day of balancing his ambitions with his schoolwork. Scheming and learning things he wasn’t supposed to was hard work, after all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was intending for this to be solely a Golden Deer/Verdant Wind fic, but now I'm having new ideas that may make this a fifth 'route' not included in the game. A new path, one leading to a different ending of things.


	12. In the Shadow of Abyss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trying something different here with Abyss, might branch out from canon more since something different is sometimes more interesting than the story we already know by heart.

“This was a bad idea!” someone screamed as Byleth sent another body flying with one arm. “Who the hell is this freak?!” 

Byleth ducked beneath another sword, then cracked a metal fist into his attacker’s visor-covered helmet. The protective plates crunched and bent inwards, the bone beneath it giving way as well. 

“Balthus, get yer ass up already!” another vagabond brayed. “We’re gettin' flattened by this guy!” 

Balthus, the one who had those glowing claw weapons, had taken two of Byleth’s fists to his face and chest and been thrown heavily into a brick wall with enough force to crack the mortar holding it together, before slumping lifelessly to the ground beneath it. 

The others had swarmed him instantly, only be met by a writhing storm of steel arms and fists whipping out faster than an ordinary human could match, no matter how well trained they were. 

“Yes! Hit them harder, Byleth!” Sothis called encouragement from behind even as his arms phased through her spectral form, her fingers a ghostly breeze against his neck that kept their sight alive. “There is an archer over there!” 

Her head swiveled to a narrow hall going off somewhere else, where a man in a ratty grey tabard was lining up a shot with his curved bow. Why were they all wearing grey? He released his shot with a loud thrum, and Byleth’s arm snapped up in time to deflect the hissing projectile. 

The serrated metal head shrieked as it skittered off of umbral steel plates, wood splintering with a loud snap somewhere behind Byleth as he sprinted towards his opponent. 

“I thought this guy was supposed to be blind?!” someone else yelped. “Why else would he be wearin’ that blindfold?!” 

Byleth cracked the archer’s skull with a well-aimed fist and spun to face whoever was left, his four arms held defensively before his body while Sothis’s eyes peered over his head. All but three of his attackers were down, dead or otherwise, and the trio that remained were staring at him with wide, horrified eyes. 

“Well, it looks like the Knights finally got tired of us,” one of them sighed, shaking his head in a fatalistic acceptance. “Bastards send a monster to wipe us out, maybe test the waters for a full-blown assault.” 

“I’m not here to wipe out anyone,” Byleth said, lowering his arms and turning his keen ears to his surroundings. “Just chased a thief and followed him down here. I defended myself after you attacked me.” 

A second man looked around at the bodies. “Ye sure about that? Ye certainly wiped the floor with the likes o’ us.” 

“He has four arms made of metal,” the first man pointed out. “Damn right he’s wipin’ the floor with us. Did’ye see how quickly he took Balthus out?” 

“King of Grappling, my left arse cheek,” the final vagabond grumbled, nudging the fallen brawler with his boot. “King o’ Eatin’ Dirt is more like it.” 

Byleth heard someone moving, so softly he’d almost missed it and probably would have if his hearing hadn’t grown keener to compensate for his lack of sight. This fourth figure was sticking to the shadows of the room, moving towards him, and he heard the faintest hint of steel whispering against oiled leather. 

_“Sothis, look behind me,”_ he sent to her. _“Do you see anyone?”_

Sothis’s sight swiveled until she was looking at the chamber at his back, and a lithe shadowy form caught her attention as it slithered forward with incredible elegance and speed. 

“There! I can barely hear them, so it is a good thing we share our senses, is it not?” she said in his ear. 

The shadow blended in effortlessly with its surroundings, and Sothis actually lost sight of it once before it reappeared moments later, and then it flashed orange. 

“Move!” Sothis ordered, and Byleth flung himself to his left while holding his arms up in a defensive stance. 

A steel blade scraped against the flexible plates with a shriek, followed by a surprised “Huh?” before Sothis caught sight of who this attacker was. 

It was an attractive young woman with long purple hair and sharp eyes enhanced by the faint eyeliner shrouding them, an odd orange accessory glowing around her hand. She was dressed in an odd purple and white imitation of the Officer’s Academy uniform, with a white shoulder cape cinched by a black chain. 

“Well, that was impressive,” the deep voice made Byleth reconsider the thief leader as they jumped back, their sword flicking back and forth in a bright gleam. “So, who are you?” 

A man, then? He certainly looks feminine enough to pass as a woman. 

“My name is Byleth Eisner. I followed a thief down here and was attacked by these people. Yours, I take it?” Byleth kept his arms ready in case this guy tried to do something else. 

With the way he moved...it was similar to a Warp or Rescue spell, except he teleported himself instead of someone else. 

“Yes, they are,” the leader nodded, giving Byleth a rather conspiratorial smile. “So, you’re one of the famous Demon Twins, are you? Isn’t your sister the new professor of the Golden Deer House?” 

“She is,” Byleth nodded, readying his fists in case that was a veiled threat. “Just so you know, she is much faster and deadlier than I am. If you attempt to harm her or her students, she will catch you and grind you into dust.” 

Or perhaps he should just kill them all now. 

“I don’t doubt that, but I can’t let you get out of here and threaten Abyss or my people,” the man’s eyes hardened. “Nothing personal, friend, but I look after my own.” 

“Behind you!” Sothis yelled into Byleth’s ear right as Yuri vanished in a blur of orange/red. 

Byleth’s arms snapped back on their own volition, steel shrieking as his attacker’s blade met the flexible plates instead of his back. 

_“I owe you one, Sothis,”_ he sent to her as the rogue swore. 

“How the hell did you-” said rogue jumped back as quick as he could, just narrowly escaping being grabbed by Byleth’s arms. “That was a close one... I can see how you managed to beat Balthus even when he had his Relic.” 

Relic... those claws? Interesting, but what was a Relic, anyway? A powerful weapon? 

Byleth stepped forward and the rogue vanished again, Sothis’s eyes swiveling around rapidly. 

“Wait...above!” she looked up, where the rogue was dropping towards Byleth like a meteor. 

With scarcely a heartbeat to move, three of Byleth’s arms snapped upwards to protect him from the blade streaking towards him while the fourth jabbed out at a different angle. Again, steel bit into flexible plates, directing the attack elsewhere, while Byleth’s fourth arm sank into soft flesh. 

The rogue spluttered as the air was thrust from his lungs, choking and coughing as he hit the ground at Byleth’s feet. His sword clanged loudly as it hit the ground beside him, and Byleth positioned himself between weapon and man to discourage a lunge for the blade. 

“Yuri!” the surviving three vagabonds, spurred by desperation or loyalty, charged Byleth all at once, baying hoarse battle cries. 

“S-stop!” Yuri croaked, making them freeze. 

Byleth heard the rogue leader groaning as he shifted on the floor beneath him, making his cape rustle. 

“Look at you! You have triumphed yet again due to my help!” Sothis crowed from behind him, her eyes lowering to show him the fallen Yuri. 

The rogue was clutching his abdomen and wheezing as he struggled to breathe, his eyes never once leaving Byleth. “Heh...y-you’re certainly...the real thing. A demon...in the flesh.” 

“So I’m told,” Byleth readied his arms to deal a final blow, to crush this beaten man between metal fists. 

A tightness tugged at his chest at the thought of this rogue going after Beleth or her students, and the only way to prevent that was to remove the threat entirely. 

“Wait, wait!” Yuri wheezed, lifting his hands up. “You...wouldn’t kill a surrendering...man, would you?” 

His breathing was getting steadier, Byleth noted. How long would it be before he could warp again? Probably not long. 

“Yes,” Byleth again reached out with his arms, closing a metal fist around Yuri’s throat and lifting him effortlessly off of the floor. “I would.” 

He’d learned the hard way that certain types of people were like to falsify their surrender in an attempt to stab someone in the back. This Yuri seemed to be of the type to do such a thing. 

“Yuribird!” a girl’s voice filled the room, followed by one sigh and then another. 

“Oh, that’s not good,” one of the vagabonds muttered. 

“Get the hell out of-” 

The ground exploded several yards away, spitting out a serpentine desert dweller that spiraled upwards before turning a cavernous mouth full of fangs at Byleth. 

“Good luck, friend,” Yuri chuckled, and before Byleth could clench his fist to crush the rogue’s throat, he vanished in a blur of orange. 

“Run! Get the hell away from it!” the vagabonds tried to sprint away as fast as their legs would take them, only for a second serpent to burst from the ground beneath them in an eruption of stone, sand, and blood. 

One man was swallowed whole by the beast when it emerged, a second disappearing down the scaly gullet a scarce heartbeat after. 

“Holy fuck!” the third screamed, dropping his weapon before running away. 

A massive tail slammed down on him an instant later, turning him into a crushed, bloody mess of gore and ravaged flesh. 

“That takes care of the thieves, at least,” Byleth muttered, crouching and picking up the finely made steel blade Yuri had dropped. 

All he had left were these serpents. 

“That Yuri got away, and it looked like he grabbed the muscular one as well,” Sothis noted, her gaze shifting to the empty space where the Relic-wielding Balthus had been lying earlier. 

The serpents slithered towards him, roaring and spitting as they closed in on their chosen prey. Their bodies were covered in thick, flexible scales that were pretty difficult to puncture unless you had monster killing weapons, but there were certain gaps one could exploit. 

Byleth surged forward, sliding to the side to avoid being swallowed by its gaping maw, then jammed his blade deep into the beast’s eye with all the strength his arm could muster. He let go as the serpent jerked away from him, its shriek slamming nails through his skull as the creature threw its injured head about, flinging gore and sticky green blood everywhere. 

Its thrashing would drive the blade in deeper and kill it soon enough, so all he had to do was focus on its brethren. Byleth increased the distance between him and the dying serpent to avoid being smashed by its flailing, then sprinted at the second beast. 

The serpent lashed out with its tail with blinding speed, but Byleth’s instincts were already well-honed by countless battles against these types of demonic beasts. And, well, because his bond with Sothis did give him unusually fast reflexes. 

He could sometimes feel a nudge of sorts, a feeling that something was coming towards him, and that sense was invaluable on the field of battle, especially when he was fighting numerous enemies at once. There was only so much that Sothis could see, after all. 

Byleth ducked beneath the tail and closed the distance, readying his muscles to leap aside for the anticipated bite attack. It came with a sandy-colored blur, and Byleth repeated his earlier maneuver. His metal arms plunged into the beast’s gelid eye, drawing a shriek from the creature as he jammed hard umbral steel through fluid and cracked through bone. 

Then came a slightly stiffer resistance from brain matter, and the creature went still in an instant. With a squelch and a crack, Byleth pulled his fluid-slick arm from the leaking eye socket, shaking the limb to eject the grey fleshy bits that were clinging to the plates. 

“That is utterly disgusting,” Sothis grumbled. “You are _not_ touching me with that arm, do you understand?” 

“Yes,” Byleth nodded to her. “Any other threats?” 

No danger of being overheard, especially since everything had gone quiet and he hadn’t heard anyone else. Sothis scanned the area as well as she could, and nothing was left aside from the corpses of men and beast alike. 

The only sound he could hear was the dripping of cranial fluid from his arm and the ravaged eyes of the serpents. 

“I believe you are safe now, but we must not linger,’ she declared, her hand solidifying enough for her to brush it against his neck. 

He shuddered, almost feeling her smirk at him as he did. “Agreed. Need to report to the Knights.” 

“And clean yourself up,” Sothis reminded him as they strode towards the way they’d come. 

“And clean myself up.” 

“Good boy,” Sothis actually pat the top of his head, but Byleth suffered it in silence. 

She enjoyed it, so might as well let her have it. It felt a bit nice, too, although Byleth wasn’t going to admit that to her or Belle. 

“Thanks for looking out for me, Sothis,” Byleth said as the two squeezed through the narrow stairway back up to the surface, leaving behind only the dead and the gone. 

Sothis nodded, the hand not on his neck squeezing one of his. “But of course, my silly mortal! How could I forgive myself if I let you get hurt? In battle, anyway.” 

In battle, sure... didn’t stop her from making him fall when they were first practicing this shared sight. 

They strode up back to the hole, and Byleth’s instincts flared. He jumped back just in time for a blazing sword to cleave a burning orange gash into the stone where he’d just been standing. A glowing weapon, just like the other two. Another of these Relics? 

“Gotcha!” the knight from earlier, Catherine, yelled as her bone-like blade was reared back for another strike. “Wha?” 

“Please don’t kill me,” Byleth lifted all four of his hands in surrender, feeling some of the fluid from the serpent’s eye running down his side. 

“What the heck were you doing down there?” Catherine asked, slipping her sword into its scabbard and folding her arms. “I was told a thief had tried to cart off stolen goods through that hole.” 

“The thief is dead, along with a number of his associates and a pair of giant serpents,” Byleth said, nodding at his leaking arm. “Hence, that.” 

He was about to ask her what was so special about her Relic, her glowing weapon, only to pause when Sothis elbowed him. 

“You are blind!” she hissed. “How would you have seen those weapons?” 

Ah, right. 

“Nicely done,” Catherine laughed, lightly punching his closest arm. “Lady Rhea’ll be happy to know that the thief has finally been dealt with! But where did those Demonic beasts come from?” 

“I don’t know,” Byleth answered. “I heard some girl sigh and then they showed up.” 

“Wait, you heard a girl sigh?” Catherine frowned. “Did you hear any names?” 

“Two: Balthus and Yuri,” Byleth nodded. 

“Is that so. I’ll have to talk to Lady Rhea about them,” she grumbled. “You did good today, Byleth. Why don’t you go get your, uh, arm cleaned off?” 

“I shall,” Byleth nodded. “If you need me for anything else, don’t hesitate.” 

Catherine grinned widely. “For sure! You earned a break if you took down two of those damn snakes. Even I have trouble hitting them with Thunderbrand.” 

Ah, this was the opening he was hoping for! 

“Thunderbrand?” he asked, at which Catherine gave him a weird look. 

“Yeah, you didn’t...Oh, right, I keep forgetting you’re blind!” she said with a sheepish chuckle. “Thunderbrand is one of the Hero’s Relics: legendary weapons of incredible power granted by the Goddess, herself. Only those with Crests can use them, and my Crest of Charon lets me draw out Thunderbrand’s true power.” 

She patted the weapon, making it hum in response. 

“Was that the sword?” Byleth asked, cocking his head towards the sound. “I heard something similar down in the catacombs.” 

“You heard another Relic down there?” Catherine frowned even deeper. “That can’t...I’ll talk to Lady Rhea about it.” 

“Very well. If you’ll excuse me,” Byleth turned and let Sothis guide him away from the Relic-wielding knight. 

“Relics...Relics...” Sothis was murmuring once they’d made some headway. “They feel familiar somehow, and yet I have never seen one before!” 

_“They look like they are made of bones,”_ Byleth pointed out. 

He could almost feel the sour expression Sothis was making even if he could not see it. “I think they are. I...I feel like...” 

She groaned and shook her head, the abrupt tilting of the world at her movement almost making Byleth lose his balance. 

“This is infuriating! I just cannot seem to recall, and the memories are just out of reach!” she wailed, a wave of frustration and bewilderment rippling from her. 

Byleth lifted an arm, making sure it was a clean one, and tried to take her hand, but his metal limb phased right through her. “Damn.” 

“Thank you for trying,” she muttered, but it was plain that her mind was elsewhere entirely. 

They walked in silence through the monastery, throughout which Byleth could practically hear Sothis’s raging thoughts as she wrestled with her memory conundrum. 

He hoped she would find some peace while he was bathing, at least, when she had time on her own to think. 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

Beleth remained silent from where she was sitting behind her desk, nodding in response to the student who was currently standing before her. 

“I’ll talk to Lorenz and tell him this behavior is unacceptable,” she said to the girl, who gave a tired sigh. 

“Thanks, Professor. He just kept going on and on about finding a respectable spouse and that we had to consider our responsibilities as nobles,” the student bowed and hurried away, shutting the door behind her and leaving Beleth to digest her complaint. 

“That’s the fourth one this week, Lorenz,” she muttered to herself. “You are almost as bad as-” 

Another knock sounded on her door, making her pause and look up. 

“Professor Eisner, are you in there?” Dimitri’s voice came from the other side. “I pray I am not interrupting you.” 

“You aren’t. Come in,” Beleth called. 

The head of the Blue Lions pushed his way in, the heavy doors creaking as they swung open to admit him. 

“Professor,” Dimitri bowed to her as he stopped before her desk. 

“Did you need something, Dimitri?” she interlaced her fingers and rested her head upon them, fixing her eyes on the blonde prince. 

He fidgeted beneath her stare, then swallowed and straightened his spine while nodding. “Er, yes, actually. I wanted to apologize for involving the Golden Deer in the Kingdom’s internal affairs. By all rights, the Blue Lions should be the ones taking care of this issue, but Lady Rhea is refusing my request to send us instead.” 

All Beleth heard from him was ‘I should be taking care of this’ from the boy’s words, and she found her attention locking onto the uncertainty in his eyes, the flicker of something more dangerous beneath them. 

What was Claude had said to him over a month ago? Something about a boar and a handsome golden mask or something? 

“D-do I have something on my face?” Dimitri asked, fidgeting with his sword belt. 

Oh, Beleth realized, she’d been staring a bit too intently at him. 

“You were one of the only survivors of the Tragedy of Duscur, were you not?” she asked, and he flinched before nodding. 

“Yes, I...I was,” there was pain in those eyes, and a flicker of something else, something that she couldn’t quite make out. 

Something hauntingly familiar. 

“I’m sorry. It couldn’t have been easy to survive such a terrible situation,” Beleth briefly closed her eyes and exhaled slowly through her nose. “You know, my father’s mercenary company had been entreated by several Kingdom houses to serve as their contribution to destroying Duscur after that. My father refused the contracts, of course, saying that he would have no part in it.” 

Dimitri nodded, a tiny bit of what Beleth thought was relief flickering in his eyes. “I’m glad you weren’t involved in that. It...was a terrible time for the Kingdom. I...I can still see the flames, my parents and my friends dying around me. I couldn’t...” 

Protect them? Save them? Avenge them? 

Beleth had seen the expression on his face before, she was certain, but it had been on another’s... Ah, that’s right! 

“I remember a contract that we once had in which we were sent to help a noble’s private garrison put down a wandering clan of bandits and marauders,” the memories came, as did the reason for why this scene felt familiar. “The bandits learned that we were coming and attacked the soldiers as they were gathering supplies to embark, slaughtering all but a few.” 

Dimitri frowned, confusion and concern written across his face as he listened. 

“We came to the aid of the survivors and drove off the bandits, but the garrison had been almost completely destroyed. One soldier in particular had lost both of his brothers in the raid, and he had been beside himself with grief,” battle raged in Beleth’s mind, shouts and screams intermingling with clashing metal and the shrieking of horses. “When we finally tracked the bandit clan to their base, that one soldier insisted on coming with us, said that the ghosts of his brothers were hounding him without end, begging him to avenge them.” 

Dimitri went stock still at that, his face draining of color as his eyes widened. 

Beleth kept looking at those deep blue eyes, looking at the reflection of a dead man within those irises. “He fought like an animal during our assault on the bandit clan, screaming about vengeance and placating the angry ghosts of his brothers the entire time. I have no memory of ever seeing a man kill as savagely as he did, going so far as to rip out a bandit’s eyeballs and strangle him while already covered in the blood of the others.” 

“Why are you telling me this?” Dimitri’s voice was hoarse, raw. 

Beleth rose from her desk and walked around it, placing a hand on his armored shoulder. “Because you have the same eyes that soldier did. Haunted by what only you can see, carrying the weight of those you’d lost. Would you like to know what happened to that soldier?” 

Dimitri hesitated, then gave the tiniest of nods. 

“We left him on that battlefield, laughing over the corpses like a man possessed,” Beleth folded her arms before her chest, exhaling slowly as the memory of his insane, keening laughter jabbed at her ears. “I heard later that he’d abandoned his post to roam through the forest around the hideout, hunting down and murdering whoever he deemed a threat to the town, even if they ended up being innocent merchants and travelers. Eventually, the town militia and the nobleman’s knights got tired of him terrorizing the roads, so they banded together to track him down and executed him.” 

She looked back at Dimitri, lowering her arms as she did. “I don’t want to watch you walk that same path. To live only to serve the dead. There is no future in a life like that, Dimitri.” 

“I...I understand why you told me that story, but I cannot just ignore the plight of everyone I’ve lost,” Dimitri was pale, his eyes torn and conflicted as he lifted his hands and stared at them. “The dead can do nothing in this world, which is why the living must act for them. I alone survived that attack, and I alone must carry the wishes of my father and stepmother, of Glenn, and of everyone else who lost their lives to the flames of Duscur!” 

If he continued down this road, he would end up just like that nameless soldier: dragged forward by the wishes of the dead until they drove him mad and ground him into dust beneath them. He would die following that path if nothing changed. 

“Dimitri, I might be the professor of the Golden Deer, but you are still one of the students here and are thus under my care,” Beleth said, making him look up at her. “So, allow me to impart a lesson to you: just because you were the only survivor of the Tragedy doesn’t mean that you can only live for those you lost. Live for yourself and those who walk with you in the world of the living.” 

She patted his shoulder and moved past him towards the door, pausing to glance back at him as her fingers brushed smooth wood. “I don’t want to watch you turn into that soldier from the story, and I get the feeling that those you lost truly wouldn’t want that to happen either.” 

Beleth pushed through the door and strode out into the Academy, her eyes going to where the sun was slowly starting its descent. There were only a few days left until the Deer were to disembark to Magdred Way, and perhaps she could talk to Lady Rhea, convince her to let a couple of the Blue Lions join them. 

It was their territory, after all, especially Ashe. 

“Hey, Teach!” Claude was waving from the direction of the dining hall. “Dinner’s ready! Why don’t you join us?” 

Beleth clanked over to her student, admittedly feeling a bit lighter than she had before. “Claude. Has everyone else gone to eat, yet?” 

“Oh, you know Raphael, already eating his own weight in food,” Claude chuckled. “We better hurry or we’re not going to have anything left.” 

“Agreed,” Beleth nodded. 

They walked towards the dining hall, where there was already a slew of conversations drifting outwards along with delectable smells of cooked meat and vegetables. Some kind of stir fry, maybe? 

“Man, that smells good!” Claude nodded, glancing over at Beleth. “So, what did His Princeliness want to talk to you about?” 

“You were eavesdropping,” Beleth guessed, and Claude hesitated. “I don’t fault you. What did you think of our conversation?” 

“Well...I can certainly see the similarities between him and that soldier you were talking about,” Claude sighed after a moment of silent deliberation. “You think he’s being haunted by the ghosts of his dead parents or something?” 

“Perhaps, or perhaps it’s all in his head,” Beleth murmured as the duo entered the building to a waft of hot air in their faces. “Grief can do strange things to people’s heads.” 

“Oh! There’s the Professor!” Leonie was waving from the table where the rest of her class was seated. “Over here, Professor!” 

Beleth moved over to the table and took an empty seat next to Lysithea, who was glumly poking some of the vegetables on her plate with a fork whereas Raphael was inhaling his plate at manic speed. 

“Raphael, you must control yourself!” Lorenz spluttered, his eyes wide with shock. “How are you able to breathe?!” 

“He’s always been like this,” Ignatz said from on Raphael’s other side, a rueful smile on his face. “Especially when he hit his growth spurt when we were younger.” 

Beleth nodded. “Takes a lot of food to keep a body like his going. I’m not shocked he has to eat so much.” 

“See? Professor gets it!” Raphael laughed before shoving another forkful of meat into his mouth. 

“At least he’s not spitting food all over me,” Hilda sighed from nearby, tapping her fingers against the tabletop. 

“Again, you mean?” Marianne asked with a tiny smile, one that Beleth was quite pleased to see. 

She was slowly becoming a little more confident, at least around her classmates, but Beleth had heard Leonie snapping at her earlier, something about a shopping list. Hopefully the duo would be able to reach an understanding about whatever that had been about. 

Other than that, the Golden Deer seemed to be getting along quite well. Even Lysithea, despite how much she snapped at everyone. 

“Hey, Teach! You forgot your food!” Claude strode over, holding two plates of stir fry and steamed vegetables. “You’re lucky I’m looking out for you!” 

Beleth nodded and accepted the plate, a lightening in her chest making her pause. “Thank you, Claude. Sit with me.” 

“As you command, Teach!” Claude slid into the seat next to hers, an easy grin ever on his lips. 

Beleth looked around at her students, her kids, and found herself wishing she could smile at them, to make them feel happy in her presence. 

As she sat here, downing forkfuls of food and listening to the chaos of the Golden Deer, she could feel more eyes from the other tables watching her closely, almost judging her anew. 

Well, she had a mission to prepare the class for, and she would be damned if she let anything happen to her kids again. But at least now she could just enjoy this peaceful time with them, almost as if they didn’t have a care in the world. 

But peace never lasted, not for her. 

Not for a demon. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wasn't originally planning to have Beleth and Dimitri talk so deeply about his ghosts, but the idea came to me in the middle of the chapter and prompted me to rewrite it to fit the scene. And of course good little Claude von Riegan is being a shit and getting into stuff he really shouldn't. But that's why we love him!


	13. Magdred Way

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to do something different for this battle, different from the game, at least. Feel free to leave your thoughts on it!

The air was cold, thick with anticipation and electric with a tense fear that Beleth couldn’t quite place. A veritable army of knights and soldiers serving the Church had already gone ahead of the class to serve as a vanguard and a buffer in case of any desperate last-ditch pockets of resistance from Lonato’s forces. 

“I don’t like this, Teach,” Claude murmured as the air started to become thicker and thicker with fog. “I’ve heard that the knights haven’t been able to capture or kill Lonato yet, despite laying siege to his castle and routing his soldiers whenever they sallied out.” 

“Do you think this is a trap?” Beleth asked, frowning. 

“Even Lonato wouldn’t be stupid enough to attack us head on,” Catherine strode forward, her Relic hanging at her side. “And he’d have to get through the knights to reach us.” 

“If he does, perhaps I can try to talk him down,” Dimitri said from nearby, offering Beleth a small smile. “I cannot thank you enough for convincing Lady Rhea to allow me to accompany you. I will give this mission my all, especially for Ashe’s sake!” 

“If we’re attacked, hopefully your presence here will help us settle things more peaceably,” Beleth nodded, silently taking note of his eyes. 

The ghosts were still there, judging by the darkness in those deep blue irises, but he didn’t seem to be quite in their thrall at the moment. 

“Agreed,” the prince nodded. “I apologize again for having you dragged into Faerghus’s problems. It should be my class taking care of this.” 

“Hey, it’s no problem, princey! You can just pay us back later!” Claude laughed, playfully nudging the prince with his elbow. “Any idea why Lonato is doing this, anyway?” 

Catherine shuffled from foot to foot nervously, reaching up and rubbing the back of her head as an uncomfortable expression curved upon her face. “Well, uh, what do you know of the Tragedy of Duscur?” 

“I’ve heard enough,” Beleth glanced at Dimitri, a move that Catherine caught instantly. “Was Lonato involved somehow?” 

“Not Lonato, but his son, Christophe,” the Knight of Seiros mumbled, pain flickering across her eyes. “I...was friends with Christophe, and I had to turn him over to the Church when we discovered that he was included in the plot to kill-” 

An arrow whizzed over their heads, making everyone duck. 

“Get close to me!” Beleth ordered, lifting her hands and chanting. 

As her students huddled around her, she erected a bubble of shimmering magic around them, carefully concentrating on making the gravity tighten only at surface level. It would be very unfortunate if she accidentally flattened her own class along with herself. 

Sothis would certainly never let her hear the end of that if it had happened, especially since the spectral woman and Byleth were currently miles upon miles away at Garreg Mach. Had her brother even left the monastery since they’d arrived there? 

“Damn, this fog just keeps getting thicker!” Catherine pulled Thunderbrand from its scabbard, the blade burning to life in a blaze of orange and crackling sparks. 

Another arrow hit the bubble and froze on the outer layer, locked in place by Beleth’s magic. 

“Looks like we were their targets, after all,” Dimitri frowned. 

Claude snorted. “Or Catherine is. Looks like daddy dearest wants revenge for his son.” 

“Claude,” Catherine scowled at the boy, who gave her a lazy grin. “Professor, can you move this thing around?” 

“I can, yes, but only through the main path,” Beleth had recalled seeing thick forests lining the path. “If I try to take this through the trees, it won’t end well.” 

Another arrow thunked into the bubble, followed by another. 

“Can we shoot out of this?” Claude wondered as he eyed the shimmering barrier. 

“No, and don’t use magic, either,” Beleth warned when another impact made Lysithea jump and almost fire off a bolt of miasma. “You hit my magic from the inside and the rebound will flatten everyone inside of it.” 

“Okay, so let’s not kill ourselves,” Claude muttered. “What’s the plan, Teach?” 

“We move forward, draw the enemy out of hiding. Lysithea: did you notice anything strange about this fog?” Beleth glanced at her star student, who nodded. 

“I think it’s been manually conjured with magic,” Lysithea reported. “If so, we can track it to whoever cast the spell.” 

Hilda perked up. “So, we take out the bad guy calling the fog and it goes away?” 

“That would certainly make this battle unfold more easily,” Lorenz huffed. “And we can rid ourselves of this stain on the noble fabric of Fodlan!” 

“Man, even Lorenz is fired up!” Claude laughed, earning a sour look from the noble. “What? I’m just encouraging your enthusiasm.” 

More arrows thunked against Beleth’s shell, making the students jump. Unlike the large manor back from the previous mission, it didn’t take too much magic to maintain this bubble. She could hold it for longer, but any shift in her attention could weaken it, open holes that a stray arrow might whisper through. 

“Leonie, do you see the archers?” she asked, trusting that Jeralt had taught the girl how to look for threats in low visibility. 

“Yeah! They’re taking cover in the trees over there!” she pointed to the right, straight at a thick cluster of trees. 

Right as she spoke, another arrow came whizzing overhead, streaking over the bubble as if gauging how high it rose. This time, however, Beleth had seen the archer responsible, along with those hiding with them. 

“Okay, I’ll open a hole in the back for Claude and Leonie to shoot out of,” she said, looking at the two. “Pick your targets quickly and take them down.” 

In her mind’s eye, she pictured her magic flowing in a circular motion, opening a gap round enough for her students to shoot out of. 

Claude immediately pulled back, sighted, and released a shaft through the opening, a scream from the fog following the hiss-thrum of the bow and its projectile. A dark form in the fog crumpled, another answering Claude’s arrow with one of their own. 

The enemy’s shaft hit the bubble with a thunk, and Leonie fired back at their ambushers, giving a short triumphant laugh as another silhouette collapsed. 

“Good shooting, both of you,” Beleth kept her magic flowing, keeping her breathing steady as power rippled through her fingertips. 

“Kill them!” a new voice bellowed from the fog, sounding oddly disembodied in the haze. 

More dark forms appeared in the fog, yelling as they waved their weapons in threatening arcs. 

“Open the hole, Professor!” Catherine hissed. “We need to intercept them!” 

“No need,” Beleth said, steeling herself as the first of their ambushers broke through the fog, bellowing as he slammed his axe into her bubble. 

Man and weapon rebounded as if hitting rubber, screaming while his body pinwheeled through the air before slamming hard against the earth in the distance. 

“Wait, something’s wrong,” Dimitri said, frowning when Beleth looked at him. “That didn’t look like one of the Gaspard Knights.” 

“I didn’t get a good look at him. What did you see?” Beleth asked, her voice followed by the thrum of Claude’s bow and a scream from the forest. 

“What are you fools doing?!” the voice that ordered the attack demanded. “They’re just a bunch of kids! Kill them!” 

“They have some kind of magic shield!” a rough voice yelled back. “Damien hit it and went flying!” 

“He ain’t breathin’ no more! Broke his neck when he hit the ground!” another unseen voice hollered. 

“I ask that you identify yourselves immediately!” Dimitri stomped forward, slamming the butt of his lance into the ground. “I am Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd! Crown Prince of Faerghus!” 

“Holy shit!” 

“It’s the prince!” 

Confusion rippled through the voices as several of them started chattering as one. 

“The prince?” 

“Prince Dimitri!” 

“Damn it, put up yer weapons! I didn’t come here to fight our prince!” 

More of the figures were emerging from the fog, close enough to where Beleth could actually see them, and an uneasy realization struck her: these weren’t soldiers. 

These people were wearing patchwork armor of leather and animal hide that had clearly been roughly sized and cobbled together from various sources. One man had a metal pauldron while another had a breastplate that was a size or two too small for him. A woman trudged forward in hunting leathers, a bandolier of knives strapped across her body while a simple bow was clutched in her hands. 

“Prince Dimitri...he is here!” another man wearing a stained blacksmith’s apron gasped, a massive sledgehammer clutched in the two boulders that he called hands. 

“What are you fools doing?!” yet another man joined the growing crowd, and it was this one that got Beleth’s attention. “Kill them already!” 

This man was wearing robes more suited for mages, but his face was hidden behind a pointed cowl and a mask reminiscent of a bird’s beaked face. Was he the one responsible for the fog? 

“Hey, I didn’t sign up to fight our prince!” the mountain of a blacksmith growled at the masked man. “I ain’t about to commit treason against my Kingdom!” 

“And yet you were willing to fight against the Church of Seiros,” Catherine snarled. “Against Lady Rhea.” 

“That bitch is a fraud!” one of the villagers declared, immediately becoming the target of Catherine’s infuriated glare. “She’s been lyin’ to all of us! Lord Lonato told us the truth!” 

“What did you just call Lady Rhea?” Catherine stomped towards the speaker, only to hit the barrier and bounce back with a yelp before Beleth could stop her. 

“Lord Lonato doesn’t deserve this suffering!” another villager yelled. “He’s a good man! That pretender Rhea did this to him! To all of us!” 

“Pretender?” Claude repeated softly, and Beleth gave him a warning glare to keep quiet before Catherine cut him in half. 

“Professor, lower the barrier,” the legendary knight seethed through a clenched jaw. “These heretics are committing treason against Lady Rhea.” 

“I will not. The archers in the trees are still taking aim at us and I will not endanger my students,” Beleth retorted. 

In truth, the students’ armor would likely protect them from the worst of the arrows, but Beleth was hesitant to fight civilians. They were never trained for combat, and it never felt right to raise steel against them. 

If she had to kill them to protect her kids, on the other hand...she would do so without a hint of that hesitation. 

“Your students are wearing nearly full suits of Umbral Steel armor!” Catherine turned her furious gaze to Beleth. “Lower. Your. Magic.” 

“Wait,” Dimitri pushed himself as close to the barrier as he could, eyeing his people. “My citizens, why are you rebelling against the Church? What is driving you to take up arms against Lady Rhea?” 

His unruly hair was rippling from its proximity to Beleth’s magic, and she mentally strengthened the barrier before him in case someone tried to attack the prince. 

“Prince Dimitri, I pray that you will forgive us for our discourtesy,” the hulking blacksmith grunted. “We march to unseat that witch from her stolen throne, to uncover the lies that she has been feeding Fodlan.” 

“Shut up!” the masked mage spat. “Don’t just give away our plan just because he’s your prince!” 

Wait, was that man not one of the villagers? 

“You didn’t say anythin’ about killin’ our bleedin’ prince!” the huntress came forward, her face set into a fierce scowl. “I’ll fight those pretenders in the church, aye, but not Prince Dimitri!” 

“I got no issue fighting those Alliance brats, neither, but I ain’t going to attack the prince,” another villager declared. 

“Gee, thanks,” Claude muttered, at which Hilda sighed and shook her head. 

“How the hell was I supposed to know Prince Dimitri would be coming?!” the mage demanded. “Enough bickering! Kill Thunder Catherine and take her Relic!” 

“You’re welcome to try, traitors,” Catherine growled, pointing her blazing weapon at the man. “I will kill you all for turning your backs on Lady Rhea. Prepare to taste the blade of one who serves the Goddess!” 

“Catherine, if you attack that barrier, you’ll kill us all,” Beleth warned. “One hit from your sword from this side is all it’ll take for my gravity magic to rebound and crush everyone.” 

The mage straightened, and a cold sweat ran down Beleth’s back as he eyed the class. “Is that so?” He inhaled deeply. “Your precious warmonger Rhea is a charlatan and a liar! She is a wicked wretch who-” 

“SHUT UP!” Catherine roared, raising her sword. “Professor: drop this gods-damned barrier right now! I have my duty to fulfil!” 

“Catherine, wait! Please!” Dimitri grabbed her shoulder, and the enraged knight spun to face him. “If we can end this without murdering civilians-” 

“They are heretics and traitors who have taken up arms against the Church and against the Goddess! If we do not execute them now, then we’ll have to hunt them down and execute them later,” Catherine was visibly restraining herself as she glared at the boy. “They are all going to die, either way.” 

“Lady Catherine!” Dimitri protested, shifting his gaze to the civilians. 

His people. 

“You see? Those who blindly follow that witch are incapable of reason!” the masked mage declared, jabbing a finger at Catherine. “They will not hesitate to slaughter us and our children if we do not bow to them!” 

“Will you shut up?!” Catherine snapped, and Beleth could feel the tension radiating from the knight. 

Perhaps they should just kill the mage, dispel the fog that he was summoning. With Dimitri among the class, the villagers probably wouldn’t attack them, but Beleth doubted she’d be able to convince Catherine to not slaughter the militia the second she had the chance. 

“What do you want to do, Teach?” Claude asked softly. “I don’t feel right in fighting these people but I don’t want to go up against Thunder Catherine. I’ve read some nasty stories about that Relic of hers.” 

“Perhaps we should simply deal with Lonato?” Lorenz suggested. “If he has led these people astray, then he alone should be punished. It is the noble’s duty to take care of those who live within his holdings, after all!” 

“These people chose to follow him,” Catherine shook her head. “They all pay the price for betraying the Church.” 

“Professor: that mage is the one calling the fog,” Lysithea whispered. “What should we do?” 

The militia had been chattering amongst themselves throughout this exchange, and Beleth took a moment to examine them. Maybe a dozen or so had emerged from the forest and were standing around the shell of gravity magic, most of whom were fidgeting with their various weapons and hodgepodge of makeshift armor. 

Was...was that guy wearing a pot on his head? With a metal cooking sheet tied to his chest? 

“We must kill them all! Immediately!” the mage insisted while Dimitri and Catherine continued talking back and forth. 

“We are not raising our hands against Prince Dimitri,” the brawny blacksmith shook his head as other militiamen shouted their assent. “Not even for Lord Lonato. I will not spit in the face of late King Lambert by striking his son.” 

“Did you not hear Catherine?! She will kill us all anyway!” the mage insisted. 

Alright, Beleth clenched her teeth, this has gone on long enough. She released her barrier and grabbed the arrows still embedded in the shell before they could fall, then sent the shafts streaking at the mage. 

He jerked backwards with a scream as the arrows penetrated his robes with ease, biting deep. 

“Nobody move,” Beleth ordered, tensing her magic around Catherine as the knight made to advance on the stunned militia. 

The fog lifted almost instantly as the mage fell into a lifeless heap upon the dirt, and Beleth squinted as bright sunlight bathed the world around them. 

“Look!” Raphael called, pointing a gauntlet-covered hand behind the militia. 

A company of knights were thundering towards the gathering, blue accented armor gleaming in the sunlight as metal rattled and clanked en masse. At their head was a wrinkled, old man with shoulder-length silver hair and a well-trimmed mustache that made him seem quite noble and knightly. 

“Lonato,” Catherine growled. 

Lord Lonato raised a hand, and his company trotted to a stop behind the militia, kicking up dust as they went. “Prince Dimitri, I pray you will forgive me for the distress I have caused you.” 

“Lord Lonato, why are you doing this?” Dimitri kept himself between the old lord and the knight gunning for his blood. “What could you possibly hope to achieve here?” 

Lonato pointed a gleaming lance at Catherine, his eyes blazing with fury and something else. “Thunderstrike Cassandra! I knew you would come, you dog of the apostate! It was your wretched zealotry that killed my son!” 

“Christophe got himself killed, Lonato,” Catherine retorted. “He knew what he was doing would make him a traitor to the Kingdom and the Church. I had no choice.” 

“Lonato, wait! Please!” Dimitri stepped closer to the old lord. “Why are you throwing away the lives of your people like this? Surely you know that you cannot win against the Church like this?” 

“Unless he isn’t trying to win,” Claude murmured. 

“What are you thinking?” Beleth asked softly, keeping her magic ready to grab Catherine if she so much as twitched. 

Her class Head looked at her with a frown. “He has to know that rebelling against the Church is a death sentence. His castle has already fallen, so this is probably all that he has left, and he tries to assassinate Catherine in a last-minute bid for revenge? Something stinks about all of this, especially since he still has Ashe to think about.” 

“Trap?” Beleth guessed. 

Claude nodded. “But for who? And is this even the trap or is it the snare?” 

Bait? An aging lord who bore a grudge against the Church due to his son’s execution...it wouldn’t take much to convince him to take up arms against it, especially if he was convinced that Rhea was some kind of pretender. 

“Catherine, wait,” Dimitri was pleading with her to stop, standing in her way as she tried to bully her way around him. “Lonato is a lord in service to the Kingdom. His judgement is my responsibility as crown prince to fulfil.” 

“Are you insane?” Catherine scowled at him. “I’m not letting you get hurt doing the duty that Lady Rhea entrusted to me.” 

“My prince, please step aside,” Lonato ordered as his armored horse pawed at the dirt. “I have no desire to strike you down, but I will do so if you stand in my way.” 

Was this old man trying to die? 

“Is he trying to get himself killed?” Claude was apparently thinking along the same line. “None of this makes sense, unless he’s expecting to die here.” 

“Lonato, please stand down. Think of the people here, their families!” Dimitri gestured at the militia. “Would you throw their lives away for revenge?” 

Beleth looked around at the militia, who were fidgeting and looking quite uncomfortable as they looked between Lonato and Dimitri. The Gaspard knights, on the other hand, had no such hesitation: their lances were aimed firmly at Catherine and the Golden Deer while their mounts snorted and shuffled on their hooves. 

“Get ready,” Beleth said softly to her class. “Ignore the militia and go for the knights if it comes to blows.” 

“I have nothing left to lose, and my old heart has suffered enough,” Lonato declared. “I wish we met under better circumstances, my prince, but only one of us will walk away from this.” 

“Lonato, you do not need to do this! What about Ashe?” Dimitri asked, desperation plain in his voice. 

A hint of pain flickered across the old man’s eyes. “He will move on without me. He doesn’t need me.” 

“But your dead son does?” Claude muttered. “Selfish old bastard.” 

“Lonato!” Dimitri lifted his lance as the old lord’s horse surged forward. “Stop!” 

The Gaspard knights did the same, thundering towards the class in a great stampede of metal and death. 

“Scatter!” Beleth lashed out with her magic, ripping three of the knights from their horses with a gesture before planting her metal legs and letting their claws dig into the earth. 

A knight’s lance jabbed at her, but she swayed her upper body to the side and grabbed the haft of the weapon. With a grunt and a gathering of muscles, she heaved the knight from the saddle and hurled him onto the ground with a crash. 

Her legs strained against their bindings, but the metal limbs stayed in place as she took a moment to look around. Her students were handling themselves well: Lysithea had blasted the knight bearing down on her, burning a ragged hole through his armor and the flesh beneath it; Claude and Lorenz were covering each other with arrows and fireballs, while Leonie speared another knight and knocked them onto the ground. 

Raphael ripped his opponent off of his horse and silenced the man with an armor-shattering punch, leaving Hilda to dive to avoid her own opponent as he galloped past. The knight tugged on the reins to turn his mount, but Hilda hurled her axe at him before he could get far. 

The weapon slammed into his back with a crunch, and Beleth briefly heard a strangled groan as the knight slid from the saddle and crashed to the ground. She drew her sword and finished off the knight that lay groaning at her feet and turned to see Lonato driving towards Dimitri, lance aimed at the future king’s heart as his mount thundered forward. 

“There’s no turning back!” the old lord bellowed. “For my son!” 

“Damn it, Lonato!” Dimitri hurled his lance at the onrushing horse, making the beast shriek as steel and wood slammed into its broad chest and punched through the armor it wore. 

The horse plummeted, throwing its rider hard with a crash of metal on stone. Lonato rolled before falling still on his back, his wrinkled face now bleeding in several places as he stared up, dazed from the impact. 

“Nicely done, Dimitri,” Catherine strode up the softly groaning Lonato, her eyes locked onto him. 

“Foul...zealot,” the old lord rasped. “Kill...me. Let me go...back to Christophe.” 

“To think Lonato would find his end like this...” Catherine’s expression softened. “I...” 

Dimitri picked up Lonato’s fallen lance and knelt next to the old man. “Lord Lonato, what was the purpose of this? Of sending your knights to die?” 

Lonato merely gave the prince a tired smile. “Forgive me, my... prince. End it. Let me...die a knight.” 

“Damn it all,” Dimitri whispered, rising and lifting his lance. 

“Dimitri,” Beleth didn’t know why she stepped forward, why she reached out to take the weapon from him before a ghost of his own making began haunting him. 

Before he got the chance, however, Catherine lowered Thunderbrand and cut across the dying lord’s throat, silencing his gasps. 

“Let’s go,” she said crisply, sighing and shaking her head. “I...we’re done here. Let’s get to Castle Gaspard and help the Knights clean up.” 

Beleth glanced at the stunned-looking militia, two of whom were now kneeling by their fallen lord. A few seemed to realize that they weren’t in Catherine’s sights and were running away, tossing aside their weapons as they vanished into the forest. 

“Is anyone hurt?” Beleth looked at her own students, who were thankfully unharmed. 

Ignatz shook his head, wiping at his glasses with a soft cloth while Marianne examined a small cut on Leonie’s arm where it hadn’t been covered by black steel. 

“We’re good, Teach,” Claude scowled at the dead lord before turning away. “Just wanted to see his son, huh? Didn’t even give a moment to think about how much this’ll hurt Ashe...Selfish old bastard.” 

“Professor, change in plans,” Catherine strode up to her, an unrolled scroll in her hands and a worried expression on her face. “We need to get back to Garreg Mach, now.” 

Beleth glanced at the scroll, then at her unharmed students. “Very well. Let’s go.” 

If this was bad enough to worry Catherine, then it had to be serious. Beleth much preferred working to Shamir, if it meant less trouble. She strode back over to Dimitri and placed a hand on his shoulder. 

“Are you ready?” she asked, and he lifted those haunted blue eyes of his. “We must return to Garreg Mach.” 

He swallowed and nodded rapidly, almost as if he had to convince himself that he could. “I...yes, Professor. Thank you again for letting me come.” 

“You helped us save many of these people,” Beleth said, trying to keep her voice as gentle as she’d heard others do. “Thank you.” 

A small smile curved his lips. “Shall we, Professor?” 

“Let’s.” 


End file.
